Desperate Times
by ShinyPeaches
Summary: Desperation fics. Series of oneshots. Various characters face bladder control difficulties at different stages of their lives. First up: Neville.
1. The Uncooperative Potion

**_Disclaimer:_**Harry Potter_ and all related characters do not and never will belong to me._

**The Uncooperative Potion**

Purple.

His potion was purple.

Nervously Neville stirred it. It was supposed to be green. Green. Not purple. He didn't understand what had happened and any minute now Snape was going to swoop down on him and berate him for it.

Anxiously Neville consulted his text book, one hand unconsciously going to the crotch of his pants and squeezing as he tried to concentrate.

He had to pee. Really _really_ badly.

No way would Snape let him go while his potion was _purple_ though.

Ginger roots.

He had forgotten the ginger roots.

Shifting from foot to foot Neville wondered if it would help anything to put them in now. The book said to add them after the potion had been brewing for five minutes. It was very specific.

And Neville's potion had now been brewing for nine minutes.

A wave of desperation hit him as his bladder spasmed and Neville gasped, trying to unobtrusively grip his penis through his robes to keep himself from leaking.

According to the clock he still had 40 minutes to go before the end of class. Tears pricked at his eyes as he frantically looked around for his professor. He spotted him standing near Harry, sneering into the black haired boy's cauldron. He was getting closer. He would see Neville's potion soon.

Frantically Neville made a decision and threw in the ginger roots. The potion made a hissing noise and turned pink.

Pink.

Neville couldn't stop his groan of dismay which quickly turned into a gasp of panic as he felt a spurt of warm wetness escape against the hand he still had pressed to his crotch.

No, no, no, this couldn't be happening! Not here! Not now!

"_Pink_, Longbottom. Really?" Snape's cold voice sneered, suddenly right behind him, and Neville yelped, an even bigger squirt escaping into his pants.

"S-sorry, Professor," he gasped, quickly letting go of his crotch so Snape wouldn't see and to his horror he felt a third spurt of wetness.

"The ginger root must be added at _exactly_ five minutes, Longbottom. I would think that is a concept even a simpleton of your limited intelligence should be able to grasp," Snape said softly, a sneer curling his mouth. "Otherwise the potion is _useless_."

Neville flushed, trembling. Snape's black eyes bore into him and Neville felt tears filling his own. He hadn't _meant_ to forget the ginger roots! It was just really hard to concentrate and if he didn't get to a toilet _soon_ he was going to wet himself right in front of Snape.

The thought was enough to make the tears spill over his cheeks and Snape smirked.

"Well, Longbottom? Explain yourself."

Frantically Neville cast his mind for an answer that would please the potions master, dancing from foot to foot as he tried to think, but before he could speak up another voice did it for him.

"Please, Professor, can't you see he needs the loo?" Hermione Granger said from her spot between Harry and Ron a few cauldrons down from him.

Neville could have kissed her but instead he doubled over and shoved both hands between his legs as a wave of desperation hit. He was spurting again and the whole class was watching him. He could feel his face flaming but there was very little he could do about it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Malfoy looking like Christmas had come early and he closed his eyes, more tears escaping even as he slowly leaked into his pants.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Granger, for once again butting in where you don't belong," Snape said lazily. "As for Longbottom, he is a second year and perfectly capable of speaking up when he needs the facilities," Snape sneered.

Neville sobbed then as a longer, more pronounced, jet of pee escaped him, actually spraying some through his robes and fingers, and without thinking about it (and completely unable to stop himself anyway) he quickly started jumping up and down to try and stop it. "P-please, s-sir," he begged, panicked and terrified and only dimly aware of the Slytherins laughing at him.

Snape smirked again, amusement glinting in his cold eyes. "I don't know what you're sniveling to me for, Longbottom. You're the one choosing to stand there and urinate on yourself. I didn't tell you that you couldn't use the restroom," he said silkily.

For a moment Neville gaped at his professor, his frazzled and anxious mind unable to comprehend.

"_Go_, Neville!" Hermione said, speaking up again, and with another sob Neville spun around and tried to run for the door, wetting himself as he ran, his bladder finally starting to totally give up.

The Slytherins were roaring with laughter and Neville knew he was leaving a trail of pee behind him. Still he ran.

Tears blinding his vision; Neville was thankfully in the dungeon hallway outside of the classroom and out of sight before he felt his bladder entirely relax of its own accord, urine forcefully and loudly hissing out of him, completely soaking his pants and robes and splashing onto the floor around his feet.

"No, no, no, no," he moaned, his breath hitching in sobs as he desperately used his hands to try to stem the flow, doubling over and falling to his knees, peeing the whole time.

It seemed to last an eternity.

By the time he was finished, his bladder empty, Neville felt spent and exhausted.

He had wet himself.

Peed in his pants.

And Snape and the Slytherins had seen some of it.

And now he was crouched in a puddle of his own urine.

Shakily he stood and pulled out his wand to try and banish his mess.

His hand was shaking and his voice was trembling and he couldn't make the spell work though. He felt more tears rolling down his cheeks. When the potions lesson ended his classmates would all see the huge puddle of his pee and they would know he hadn't made it.

Granted, they probably knew already but… he didn't want them to see.

Failing to clean it though, he really didn't have a whole lot of choice and after few frustrated moments he decided it was more important to get himself out of there before anyone saw him.

Luckily for him Potions was the last class of the day and he could take his time in the showers.

Miserably, he wondered if he would be able to drown himself in the shower.

Probably not.

After he was clean he hid up in the boys' dormitory for the rest of the day, skipping supper.

He wasn't hungry anyway. And he didn't want to see anyone.

He had never been more grateful then when it was time for lights out.

Neville had never been more ready for a day to be over.

-**End**.


	2. Of Cupboards and Dreams

_**Disclaimer**:__Still not mine. Drat. _

**Of Cupboards and Dreams**

He was six years old and he was locked in his cupboard.

He had been on his way to the bathroom when his cousin Dudley had tripped him and made him fall down the stairs.

Somehow it was his fault.

And now here he was.

The injustice of it welled up in him but he had nowhere and no one to take it out on.

The worst part was he had never gotten to go to the bathroom.

And he _really_ had to go.

He had been forced to clean his cousin's room all morning while his aunt supervised to make sure he didn't play with any of the toys.

She hadn't allowed bathroom breaks.

And when he was finally finished Harry and rushed out to relive his bladder but Dudley, mean pig that was, had seen to it that he couldn't get there.

Somehow he had managed to keep from wetting himself as he was tumbling down the stairs, for which he was quite proud of himself actually… it wouldn't last though. If his aunt or uncle didn't let him out soon… _really_ soon… he would wet in his cupboard. He wouldn't be able to help it.

Somehow Harry didn't think his aunt and uncle would be very pleased about it. He sometimes accidentally wet the bed at night and that made them angry enough… if he did it _now_, while he was _awake_… well, Harry didn't see that ending well.

And yet… he _really_ had to go.

"Aunt Petunia?" he called, both of his hands stuffed down his pants as he held himself and jumped around the small space. "Uncle Vernon?"

"Shut it, boy, or you'll be in there until breakfast tomorrow!" his uncle yelled from another room and Harry stifled a sob, bouncing frantically up and down.

"But I need to go!" he called desperately, tears coursing down his cheeks. "I'm gonna have an accident!"

"I said shut it!" Vernon hollered, getting up and lumbering over to the cupboard door to bang on it for emphasis. "And you better not have an accident, boy, or you won't have any food or drink for a day! That'll help you learn to hold it!"

That said his uncle walked away, muttering furiously to himself, and Harry whimpered as he felt his hands, still down his pants, suddenly getting wet.

It was coming out!

He was peeing through his hands and, heart hammering; he frantically tried to stop it.

After a couple seconds he succeeded but there was a quarter sized patch on his pants and the little boy knew his aunt and uncle would see it.

It wasn't fair!

He had been on the way to the bathroom!

If Dudley hadn't tripped him none of this would even be happening!

As though his thoughts had called the other boy forth, Dudley was suddenly there, pounding on the cupboard door. "Are you wetting yet, freak?" he shouted viciously and Harry jumped, startled, his hands automatically coming out of his pants and before he really had time to register it, he was peeing all over himself.

He couldn't stop it, it was all coming out!

Why couldn't he stop it?

The acrid stench of it quickly filled up the little room and still it kept pouring out of him.

On the other side of the door Dudley was laughing.

Harry clenched at his little penis tightly but it did no good; he had lost all control and he was furiously and forcefully wetting himself.

* * *

Eleven year old Harry Potter curled into a tight ball in his sleep, his hands gripping his crotch under the covers of his four poster bed in Hogwarts as the memory from five years ago played itself through his head.

As his dream-self lost control Harry's brow furrowed and, still sleeping and still gripping his crotch tightly, he began to pee too.

The urine gushed out of him, quickly soaking through his pajamas and wetting the sheets around him and with a jolt Harry woke up, disoriented and confused and still wetting himself.

His first panicked thought was that Uncle Vernon was going to be really angry. Then he remembered he was at Hogwarts, Uncle Vernon was not here, and he was _still_ peeing.

He couldn't stop it anymore now then he had been able to when he was six and locked in his cupboard.

Frantically he got to his feet, regretting it immediately though when it did nothing to stem the flow and only made it so he finished out his wet on the floor instead of in his bed.

His bladder finally empty Harry fought the urge to cry. He had barely been at Hogwarts for two weeks and he had wet his bed. What if one of the other boys in his dorm woke up and saw him with wet pajamas? Not to mention his soaked bed and the small puddle around his feet?

What would Ron think of him?

Ron was Harry's first real friend and he didn't want to lose him.

Harry blinked back his tears, frustrated. He had no idea how he was going to clean all this up. He didn't know where there were any cleaning supplies and he didn't know any spells for cleaning yet either.

Sighing he figured he should do what he knew he could manage first: himself. Trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake the others, he pulled his one and only spare set of pajamas from his trunk and tiptoed to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, dry and feeling a little bit better, he returned to his dorm room to find his bed and the surrounding floor completely clean.

Harry blinked in surprise, quickly looking around at the other boys in their beds.

Everyone seemed to be sound asleep.

Relief and confusion warred.

Who had cleaned up after him then?

Cautiously he climbed into his clean, dry bed, still looking around suspiciously.

Did the castle clean itself?

Was it one of the many magic things in Hogwarts?

Eventually he fell back asleep, still not sure what had happened, but grateful nonetheless for a dry bed and hopeful that this wouldn't happen again.

Before this he hadn't wet the bed since a little bit before he found out he was a wizard. Probably it was just the dream that had caused him to do it again. He'd been thinking of his aunt and uncle earlier in the day…

The clean sheets smelled good and Harry smiled.

He loved magic.


	3. Vanishing Bathrooms

_**Disclaimer**: Still not mine. And I don't actually remember what (or if it was ever actually mentioned) floor Professor Binns' classroom is on or whether or not there is actually a bathroom anywhere near it._

**Vanishing Bathrooms**

In his four poster bed at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry 15 year old Ron Weasley was flat on his back and fast asleep.

His mouth was hanging open and every so often he would shift under his covers, discomfort flickering across his sleeping face.

* * *

_It was late. Ron wasn't sure exactly what time it was, but it was past curfew. Past when he should be wandering the corridors, past when he should be in the dorm for the night… he had to go to the bathroom though and the bathroom in the dorm just… wasn't._

_ There had been nothing but a blank wall there._

_ Ron had considered just going to bed and waiting until morning, but…_

_ His bladder throbbed with sharp, painful need and he gave himself a quick squeeze, thankful that the corridors were dark and empty._

_ Just a little further… just the next corridor… there was boys' loo there…_

_ The next corridor… that was all the further he had to go…_

* * *

Abruptly Ron turned in his sleep, muscles tensing, and under the covers his hand grabbed at his crotch for a moment before letting go again.

Restlessly he turned on his back and with a jerky, almost irritated movement; he kicked his covers down to his knees, just a light sheet remaining over the rest of him.

* * *

_Turning into the next corridor Ron was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he suddenly stopped dead, staring in shock._

_ Just a blank wall._

_ There should have been a restroom but there was only a blank wall. Again._

_ Ron ran a hand through his red hair in aggravated frustration, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as he tried to concentrate._

_ Being so close to where the restroom should be wasn't doing good things for his bladder and another sharp twinge had him grabbing at his crotch again, once more grateful that he was the only one out here._

_ A flight below where he was now. There was another loo there._

_ Or there should be._

_ Ron swallowed nervously as his bladder pulsed with need. What was going on with the bathrooms tonight? Why were they just… not there? Was it the castle playing tricks on him?_

_ Shaking his head, not knowing the answer, Ron turned and started retracing his steps, heading for the nearest flight of stairs. He'd only taken a few steps though when an intense spike of need shot through him and without thinking about it he doubled over, both hands going to his crotch._

_ Too late._

_ To his horror he felt himself spurting into his boxers and saw the warm wetness blossoming on his pajama pants._

_ The spurts turned into a stream and, panicked, he pressed his crotch as hard as he could, jiggling and running frantically in place, and after a couple seconds thankfully managed to turn it into a slow trickle._

_ Still he could see a slowly expanding circle at his crotch…_

* * *

In his sleep Ron was growing quickly more agitated and every few seconds he would toss and turn.

His comforter was now at the foot of his bed, his sheet the only thing covering him from the waist down and all at once the teenager curled in on himself, grabbing his penis, his legs clenching desperately around his hands.

A small patch of wetness was suddenly visible on the sheet and the teen made a whimpering noise in his sleep as urine started bubbling around his fingers, the wet patch growing to the size of a baseball before it slowed and then stopped.

Ron relaxed his grip a little and slept on.

* * *

_Gaining control of himself Ron quickly assessed the damage. He would definitely need a fresh pair of pajama pants when he got back to the dorm and he cursed softly under his breath, still dancing anxiously in place. If anyone saw him like this they would know that he hadn't been able to hold it completely…_

_ A blush heated his cheeks at the thought but another wave of desperation had him pushing his humiliation to the back of his mind._

_ Right now he had to find a loo._

_ As quickly as he could he headed for the stairs again, trying to walk with his legs as tightly together as he could and trying to casually cover his wet spot with a hand._

_ It was slower going then he would have liked._

* * *

In his bed sweat glistened on Ron's brow and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his head jerking from side to side as every muscle in his body tensed with apparent effort.

* * *

_Finally down the stairs Ron made a beeline for where the restroom should be and skidded to a halt at another blank wall, cursing loudly, frustration and anxiety making tears prick at his eyes._

_ One hand permanently clenched at his crotch now, Ron turned in a circle, his eyes darting around as he frantically tried to think._

_ Where was there another loo? There had to be another one somewhere on this floor…_

_ Another spurt into his boxers had him jumping up and down in a very undignified potty dance that had his face burning as red as his hair even though there was no one to see him._

_ There was a loo near Professor Binn's classroom, he suddenly remembered, and as quickly as he could he set off at a kind of shuffling run toward it, one hand still jammed between his legs._

_ Turning the corner sharply Professor Binn's classroom was suddenly in sight and Ron could have cried with relief. The loo was there._

_ Quickly he rushed into it and managed to get into a stall without any further spurting in his boxers._

_ Closing the stall door behind him he hurriedly freed his penis from his damp pajama bottoms and, aiming for the toilet, finally allowed himself to relax his aching and clenched muscles, watching with satisfaction as his stream landed in the toilet._

_ The relief was heavenly._

* * *

In his sleep Ron's breath had grown ragged, a hand once more clenched around his crotch, and he turned agitatedly over onto his stomach before all at once his tenseness slipped away and he completely relaxed, peeing furiously into the mattress.

A smile spread across his sleeping face for a few seconds before slowly his expression changed to confusion.

Eyes snapping open Ron forced himself onto his hands and knees on the bed, his expression going a little wild when he realized what was happening.

He was peeing!

Oh, Merlin, he was wetting his bed!

He was fifteen and he was pissing himself! He hadn't wet the bed since he was 8 years old and Fred and George had discovered the Muggle trick of putting a person's hands in warm water.

Hurriedly he forced himself to his feet, clapping his hands to his crotch and dancing in place, frantically trying to stem the flow.

The wetness on his pajama bottoms was fast spreading and to his horror there was a large wet spot on his bed and he was _still_ peeing!

With a massive effort he managed to stop himself but his pants were soaked all the way to his knees and in the darkness of the dorm room he could feel himself blushing.

The dream had felt so real though… he had been so sure he was in the bathroom.

His whole body was trembling and somehow he still had to pee pretty badly.

Jerkily he forced the curtains of his four poster closed, spurting again as he did so, not wanting to risk one of his dorm mates waking while he was gone and seeing his wet bed.

Irrationally he wondered if the bathroom would even be there or if it would just be a blank stretch of wall like in his dream.

Walking and keeping himself from peeing at the same time turned out to be more difficult than he had thought it would be and unfortunately he only made it directly outside the fifth year dorm room before the dam burst and he was urinating again.

Unable to stop this time, he broke into a panicked run in the direction of the loo, wetting his pants the whole way.

His hands fumbled trying to open the bathroom door, shaking and frantic as he was, wasting precious seconds there, and when he finally got in he had left behind a small puddle.

His stream was slowing down now and by the time he managed to get into a stall he realized his bladder had emptied itself and he no longer had to go.

Just perfect.

His pajama pants were totally drenched and he strongly suspected he had left a trail of pee from the dorm room to the bathroom.

Again… just perfect.

He was dejectedly leaving the bathroom, still dripping wet and miserable, when Dobby appeared in front of him with a loud _crack_.

"Mr. Wheezy, sir, Dobby has cleaned your bed and the floor for you, sir," he said happily and Ron blinked, startled.

"D-did anyone see you?" he asked hoarsely, shame making him blush as he asked.

Dobby didn't seem to notice.

"Everyone is sleeping, sir," he told him.

"Thanks, Dobby," Ron said, relieved and grateful and all at once exhausted.

"Would Mr. Wheezy like Dobby to clean Mr. Wheezy's pants for him, sir?" Dobby asked earnestly.

"Um… yeah, I guess so. If you don't mind," Ron said sheepishly and Dobby beamed at him.

"Dobby doesn't mind at all, sir!"

And with a snap of the elf's fingers Ron's pajama pants were suddenly clean and dry.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Dobby," he said again. "And, um, Dobby?" he added, running a hand through his hair and feeling like a little kid.

"Yes?" Dobby asked expectantly.

"Um… would you mind, uh… not saying anything about this to anyone? Not even to Harry?" Ron asked awkwardly.

"Dobby won't tell Mr. Wheezy's business to anyone, sir. A good house elf keeps secrets," Dobby said, matter of fact.

"Right. Well… thanks again, Dobby," Ron muttered, thoroughly embarrassed but grateful all the same.

Dobby smiled again with another _crack_ he was gone.

Tiredly Ron trudged back to his dorm, still unable to believe he had completely wet himself at 15 years old.

Climbing back into his freshly cleaned bed Ron pulled his covers up over himself and sighed as he closed his eyes. He felt embarrassed and ashamed and like a little kid.

Tonight had really sucked.

Hopefully in the morning it would all turn out to be a bad dream and he could forget all about it.

Hopefully…


	4. Story Time

_**Disclaimer**: I own neither _Harry Potter_ nor _Matilda._ They are the creations of J. K. Rowling and Roald Dahl respectively._

**Story Time**

"Okay class, I want you all to pay close attention to the next two chapters of Matilda because afterwards I'm going to give you a little quiz to make sure you understand it, okay?" Miss Lubar said to her second grade class, smiling good naturedly when they groaned and pulling out the book.

Seven year old Hermione Granger bit her lip, quickly putting her hand down. She had been about to ask if she could use the loo, but… she could hold it. If there was going to be a quiz she didn't want to miss anything.

True, she had read the book before, but… what if she forgot some detail? Or Miss Lubar said something about it and she missed it.

Doing well on the quiz was more important than her discomfort. She would be fine.

The fact that Miss Lubar would probably wait for her to come back never occurred to her.

"Everyone come gather around on the story rug," Miss Lubar called, taking her seat at the head of the rug. "You may take off your shoes, if you like."

Hermione slowly got up with the rest of the class, biting her lip again and clenching her legs as the upright position suddenly made her feel like she had to pee even worse.

Fighting the urge to hold herself Hermione quickly walked to the rug and took off her shoes, eager to sit down again where it would be easier to ignore her need.

"Everyone situated?" Miss Lubar called after a moment and when the class all chorused that they were, in fact, ready; she opened to the bookmarked page and began to read. "Bruce Bogtrotter and the Cake. 'How can she get _away_ with it?' Lavender said to Matilda. 'Surely the children go home and tell their mothers and fathers. I know my father would raise a terrific stink if I told him the Headmistress had grabbed me by the hair and slung me over the playground fence.'"

Hermione shifted in her place on the story rug, trying to find a position that was comfortable and helped her to not wet herself.

Not that that was going to happen.

It definitely wasn't.

Whimpering quietly to herself she shifted her position again, a jet of pee escaping into her underwear when she lifted herself from the floor and, moaning, she quickly slammed herself down on her heel, feeling warm wetness seep through her panties and onto her sock.

"…other teachers came in with her. She was carrying a riding crop in her right hand…"

Sniffling, Hermione tried to force her attention back on the story but barely three minutes passed before another wave of desperation hit her and, blinking back tears, Hermione found herself wishing story time (normally her favorite part of the day) would be over.

"Hey, budge up over there, let me get closer. I can't hear," Tommy Marsden whispered, trying to nudge her over.

Hermione squeaked in panic as she was pushed off of her heal and she felt herself start peeing. Quickly she scooted over for Tommy and jammed a hand between her legs, clenching every muscle she could and trying to stop it from coming out.

Tommy looked at her strangely.

What's wrong with you?" he demanded in a whisper and Hermione felt a couple tears stream down her face.

"N-nothing," she managed after a couple seconds, thankfully managing to get control of herself.

Tommy shrugged doubtfully and turned away from her, refocusing on the story. Hermione took the opportunity to chance a glance down at her skirt. What she could see of it looked dry but based off the feel she was willing to bet her butt was a little wet. Probably the rug too.

"The cook stood there like a shriveled bootlace, tight-lipped, implacable, disapproving. She looked as though her mouth was full of lemon juice," Miss Lubar read and once again Hermione tried to force her attention back to the story.

And once again it didn't last long.

She was quickly reaching the end of her rope and she was starting to seriously doubt her ability to hold herself.

She had a hand permanently stuffed between her legs now, her skirt bunched up awkwardly around her hand and it _wasn't helping_.

She kept spurting into her panties. She could feel it coming out. Slowly. So slowly… and it was torture.

Why couldn't the story and the quiz be over so she could go to the bathroom already?

A thought occurred to her then that made her worry. What if she made it through story time and the quiz but then she couldn't get her skirt down in time?

Or, even worse, what if she _didn't_ make it through story time and the quiz?

She wanted to get a good grade on the quiz and she didn't want to miss any of the story but… she didn't want to wet herself either.

Should she ask to go to the bathroom? She could make it quick and then hurry back.

Or… or maybe there was another option…

An idea occurred to her and, chewing on her lip nervously, she considered it.

Maybe… maybe she could just let a little out. Just a little bit. Just enough to feel a little bit better. To make it a little easier to concentrate. Not enough to be very noticeable, but…

Heart pounding, she looked anxiously around. No one was watching her… and she wouldn't have to miss any of the story…

If she just let a tiny bit out and then stopped it might make it easier on herself.

Heart beating wildly Hermione made up her mind. She would do. Just enough to feel a little better… but not enough to cause wetness she couldn't hide. It would work.

Nodding to herself she slowly moved her hand and allowed herself to unclench a little… pee burst out of her, fast wetting her skirt and the floor she was sitting on.

Quickly Hermione jammed both hands back between her legs but it didn't help; she just kept peeing and, panicked, she found herself frantically yelling for the teacher. "Miss Lubar I'm having an accident! I'm wetting myself!" she sobbed, tears coursing down her cheeks and at her words her classmates all scurried away from her.

"I knew it!" Tommy Marsden shouted gleefully and Hermione sobbed harder, finally managing to gain some control. Now she was sitting in a puddle though.

And she still had to go.

"Oh, honey, why didn't you say something?" Miss Lubar asked, concerned.

"I d-d-didn't want to miss the book," Hermione cried, still holding herself with both hands.

"We'll wait for you, hon, go to the bathroom," Miss Lubar said and nodding miserably Hermione made to get up but her poor abused bladder couldn't take it anymore and when she was only halfway to her feet it let go all on its own and she froze in horror, completely wetting herself.

It was like the floodgates had been opened and pee flowed through her panties and coursed down her legs, soaking into her socks and pooling around her feet.

Hermione stood there and cried while she peed.

When she was finished Miss Lubar put an arm around her and without a word guided her out of the classroom.

"It's okay, Hermione, accidents happen," she said gently. "Let's go get you cleaned up, all right?"

The nurse told Hermione she could pick something out from the lost and found bin and sniffling, wet and miserable, Hermione looked through it.

There was nothing that matched. She would look ridiculous in all of this stuff.

"Can we please call my parents?" she asked timidly. "They could bring me something."

"There's only an hour left to the day, if we do that then you may as well leave. Do you want to leave?" the nurse asked and, remembering the quiz, Hermione shook her head.

She didn't want to miss the quiz. What if it was important?

"Very good. I'll give you some privacy so you can change," the nurse said approvingly, walking into her office.

Sighing, Hermione turned back to the lost and found box. Nothing new had appeared in it and suddenly she found herself wishing fervently that her own clothes were clean and dry.

She didn't want to wear any of this stuff.

"Oh, good, you changed," the nurse commented, coming back in the room and startled, Hermione looked down at herself.

She hadn't changed. Her clothes were no longer dripping in urine though. In fact they were quite dry and clean.

Hermione could understand why the nurse had assumed she had changed.

There was no logical explanation for this and the little girl stared in shock.

"Hurry on back to class now," the nurse said, shooing her out and, dazed, Hermione went back out into the halls, already dreading the return to the classroom and the other students.

On the way she pondered her now dry skirt.

It just didn't make sense.

If the little girl didn't know better she would say it was magic.

That was, of course, impossible though…


	5. Bullies in the Bathroom

_A/N: Hi again! Another little ficlet here. Neville again this time. He's just so easy to pick on, the poor dear._

**Bullies in the Bathroom**

Neville Longbottom ran through the Hogwarts corridors. He had just gotten out of his first year Transfiguration class and now lessons were over for the day.

As he ran his heart pounded in his chest and he was starting to feel increasingly panicked. The castle was so _big_ and he still sometimes got lost and he had to find a bathroom _right now_. Thankfully he was pretty sure he was going in the right direction… the problem was just getting there in time.

To his relief he turned a corner and the bathroom was suddenly in sight… unfortunately right then he felt his bladder start to release and a long stream of urine was suddenly hissing into his pants. Frantically he tried to juggle his books into one arm so he could have a free hand to grab himself as he jumped up and down and tried to regain control. When he managed there was a softball sized wet patch at the crotch of his pants and, tears pricking his eyes, he ran the rest of the way to the bathroom.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were in the bathroom goofing off. Neville skidded to a stop when he saw them, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. Maybe he should find another loo…?

The thought no sooner crossed his mind when he felt another spurt in his underwear and he knew he wouldn't make it to another bathroom. Not without wetting himself. If he were painfully honest it was questionable he would make it into the _stall_ without wetting himself.

Swallowing nervously he slowly lowered his books to the floor and cautiously walked forward, trying not to attract the attention of the Slytherins. Every step he took made him feel like he was going to start peeing.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to use our bathroom, boys," Malfoy drawled, spotting Neville and grinning.

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly, moving to block the stalls, their eyes glinting cruelly.

With nowhere to go Neville whimpered, desperately shifting his weight around; he needed to go _now_. Couldn't Malfoy see this wasn't funny? Not now, not when he was so close.

Looking at Neville's already partially wet pants Malfoy smirked. "Aw, does ickle Longbottom have to go potty? Is he having trouble holding it?" he mocked.

"P-please, Malfoy," Neville begged, doubling over to hold himself with both hands as a wave of desperation hit him.

Malfoy only laughed, Crabbe and Goyle echoing him.

"Please!" Neville sobbed, briefly losing control and wetting himself a little more, the spot on his pants expanding.

"Oh, I don't know," Malfoy drawled. "Maybe if you stopped holding yourself and dancing around like a baby I'd be more inclined to let you go. What do you think, boys?"

Crabbe and Goyle snickered.

Neville felt tears spill over and course down his cheeks. "If I l-let go, I'll p-pee!" he said frantically. "Please, Malfoy!"

"Well, you can't use _our_ bathroom, anyway," Malfoy said, sneering. "Definitely not without proving you're not a baby."

Gulping, trying to steel himself, Neville slowly removed his hands from his crotch and straightened up, clenching every muscle he could to try to keep from losing control then and there. "T-there," he stuttered. "C-can I go now?"

"It's a good first step," Malfoy said thoughtfully and it took all Neville had not to burst into tears. "Of course, you don't make a very convincing sight standing there with wet pants. Let's see how tough you really are. Crabbe. Goyle."

Malfoy nodded at him and Crabbe and Goyle grinned, rubbing their knuckles.

Neville felt dull horror steal over him.

He couldn't mean…

Crabbe and Goyle advanced on him menacingly.

Malfoy was blocking the exit.

Neville stood rooted to the spot, too scared to move, staring at Crabbe and Goyle with wide eyes.

Distantly he felt his bladder starting to release, just a slow trickle, most of his attention on the much larger students.

"P-p-please," he found himself saying and Goyle shoved him.

Neville staggered,peeing more now, the wetness on his pants growing bigger, and suddenly Malfoy was laughing hysterically.

"He's pissing himself!" he shouted gleefully.

Crabbe grabbed Neville by the collar of his shirt and what little control Neville had left was suddenly gone, the combination of fear and genuine desperation too much for him, and he began full out wetting his pants.

He couldn't stop it and Crabbe shoved him against the wall where he sank to the floor and the Slytherins surrounded him, all laughing.

Neville curled into a ball on the floor, still peeing, and sobbed as his bladder released itself, the toilets just a few feet away.

When he was finally finished he was sitting in a very large and wet puddle.

Malfoy looked delighted.

"I have an idea," the blond Slytherin announced, taking out his wand and eyeing the thoroughly humiliated boy at his feet.

* * *

Malfoy's idea turned out to be to immobilize Neville with magic and leave him there in his urine soaked clothes all alone.

It was hours before Professor Flitwick happened to find him; curfew had come and gone and by this time Neville had to pee again.

Ironically enough, the curse that kept him from getting up and going to the bathroom was also keeping his bladder from letting go and when Professor Flitwick lifted it, it was as though a dam had been released and, for the second time in one day, Neville found himself peeing into his pants, completely unable to control himself.

"Oh, dear boy, I'm so sorry," Professor Flitwick exclaimed, trying to help the crying, wetting boy to his feet. Quickly he ushered Neville into a stall and closed the door behind him to try and give him some semblance of privacy so he could finish in the toilet in relative peace.

Still sobbing Neville tried frantically to undue his pants, pee gushing down his legs, his hands trembling violently.

Ultimately he couldn't get them, he was too panicked to make his hands work properly, and he ended up just doubling over and gripping his penis through his pants, trying desperately to stem the flow long enough to be able to get his pants off.

It didn't work. He just continued to pee through his hands and finally, no longer thinking straight, he sat down on the toilet, pants and school robes still on, his body sagging as he gave in and sat there wetting himself. Urine soaked his pants all over again and dripped down his pant legs and onto the floor, not much really getting into the toilet under him.

Finished at last Neville didn't move, mind numb with exhaustion and humiliation, his clothes dripping wet.

"Did you make it, my boy?" Professor Flitwick asked after a moment from the other side of the door and Neville choked on a sob.

"N-no," he whispered shamefully. "I… I'm s-sorry, Professor."

"Oh, my dear boy, it's quite all right," Professor Flitwick squeaked anxiously, opening the door and looking at Neville with compassion. "It's not your fault. Let's get you cleaned up and into bed, shall we?"

Still sniffling, Neville nodded tiredly and Professor Flitwick performed a quick succession of spells that left him feeling dry and clean. Even his tears were gone.

The professor even walked him back to Gryffindor tower and, though Neville didn't tell him who had put the spell on him and left him, correctly guessed Malfoy was the responsible one and promised he would be punished.

Before leaving him in Gryffindor tower Professor Flitwick magicked some hot cocoa for him and instead of going straight to bed Neville sat in front of the common room's fire for a bit to drink it and calm down.

He did not want to see Malfoy again. And if any of the other students found out… Neville closed his eyes, a couple tears leaking out.

Why did stuff always happen to him?

Finally, exhausted, he trekked up the stairs to bed, dreading the morning.


	6. Away from Home

_A/N: Because the first time ever away from home is difficult. Even for Slytherins._

**Away from Home**

Draco Malfoy stared up at the dark ceiling of his four poster bed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hogwarts.

He was finally here.

It was his very first night ever away from home.

Draco hadn't thought that would bother him. Thinking about it and imagining when he would finally be at Hogwarts… the idea of being away from his family… it had never bothered him before. Now that he was here though…

In the darkness of the dorm room, enclosed in the privacy of his bed, Draco felt a tear escape from the corner of his eye and he let out a quiet, shuddering breath.

He was embarrassed to admit, even to himself, that it was his mother he was thinking of right now, his mother that he wanted. He had never went to bed without her coming into his room and kissing him… making sure his covers were secure around him…

Turning over and burying his face in his pillow Draco told himself that was stupid. He was eleven for Merlin's sake. Eleven. And he was at school now. He didn't need his mother to tuck him in.

Against his will a few more tears escaped into his pillow and he smothered a sob, his heart pounding as he forced himself to hold his breath and listen, praying his dorm mates were sleeping by now. The last thing he needed was for them to hear him in here _crying_ like some sort of baby.

He couldn't sleep though.

When he was home and he couldn't sleep his mum would sit on the edge of his bed and stroke his hair.

Draco's pillow was damp with tears and he kind of hated himself right now. No one else seemed to be having trouble being away from their homes and parents. Just him.

He really hadn't thought it would bother him.

And he had to pee too.

What if one of the other boys woke up when he got up to go to the loo? He probably looked like he had been crying.

And… and it was… it was a bit… dark… out there…

At home, at the manor, there were always a few soft, unobtrusive lights, even at night. And it's not like he was afraid of the dark, but… Hogwarts was still sort of strange territory to him.

At the Welcoming Feast he had drank several glasses of pumpkin juice and he hadn't went to the bathroom before going to bed. At home his mum always made sure he did, but… he had been so caught up in everything, so excited to finally be here, at Hogwarts, that he… he had sort of… forgotten.

He was definitely starting to be able to feel it though and, with another sob into his pillow, he reached down under his covers and gripped a hand around his penis, sighing as he squeezed his himself.

It's not like it was urgent or anything though, and he was really a bit old to still have to go to the bathroom right before bed every night. He just did it when he was at home to humor his mother but it wasn't like he would wet the bed if he didn't. He could hold it just fine, thanks.

Still… it's not like it would hurt if he got up and went to the bathroom now… everyone was probably asleep and he could be quiet enough not to wake them.

He had drunk quite a few goblets of pumpkin juice after all…

Slowly he peaked out of the curtains around his four poster… it was pitch black and his breath caught in his throat, tears rolling down his cheeks.

He could hold it. No problem. He really didn't need to get up right now.

His breath hitching, he buried his head back in his pillow, unconsciously squeezing the hand he still had clenched around his crotch again.

He wanted his mum. As much as the humiliation burned in his gut at that admission… he really wanted his mum. Everything would be okay if he were home with her. And she would just… _know_… that he had to go to the loo. She would make sure he got there okay. Even if it was dark.

Which it wouldn't be at home.

He wasn't scared of the dark though. And his mother would understand that too.

A loud sob escaped him then and he stuffed a fist into his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.

He would be fine here in bed. It really wasn't going to be a problem to hold his bladder until morning. He was just being stupid.

Besides, what if someone woke up while he was up and caught him standing there crying like a stupid little baby?

What would his father think if that got back to him?

He would just stay here and go to sleep. His first ever classes were in the morning.

He needed to sleep.

He would be fine.

Eventually, still gripping his penis through his pajama pants, he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

In his sleep he shifted around and moved quite a bit, discomfort steadily building on his expression.

The dark Hogwarts corridors, the hallways of his own home and his parents all featured in his dreams.

A couple hours after he fell asleep he turned over onto his side, one hand still at his crotch, tears streaming down his face as he suddenly started peeing, wetness spreading through his pajamas and soaking into his mattress and covers.

In his dream his mother stroked his hair as he cried and relieved himself into the toilet. He had almost wet himself. It had been dark and he had been afraid but his mother had come in time, like she always did, and had gotten him to the bathroom just before he had lost control.

His pajama pants were a tiny bit damp but things had been about to be a lot worse if his mother hadn't gotten there when she did.

As he peed Draco didn't wake, entirely unaware that he was completely and totally wetting himself and his bed, convinced that he was in fact back home at the manor, that his mother had made it to him in time and had led him to the bathroom and that he was standing in front of the toilet.

He peed without abandon, as one does when they believe themselves to be safely in a loo, and made absolutely no effort to stem the flow.

In the morning he would wake, wet beneath his sodden blankets, covered in his own urine, and spend a few minutes crying in panic and shame before gathering his wits and sneaking to the bathroom, thankfully unnoticed.

In the shower he will allow himself to urinate again, his tears and pee (old and new) mixing with the water and swirling down the drain as he stood there and wished his dream had been real.

Wished he was home.

After his shower, clean and dry at last, he'll feel a little better, and, back in his dorm, he'll find his bed also clean and dry; the Hogwarts house elves having done their job quickly and efficiently.

Sound asleep in his bed though while he pees Draco doesn't know any of this, doesn't know that his mother is not with him; doesn't know he is wetting himself like he hasn't done since he was a toddler, certainly doesn't know that he will continue to pee in his bed every night for his first week and a half away from home.

For now, as far as Draco knows, he is back home and has just successfully used the bathroom, as far as he knows his mother tucks him back into his bed at the manor and kisses his forehead and he is warm and safe and dry and home.

Reality will come soon enough but for now… for now he's safe and secure.


	7. Coward

_A/N: Pettigrew's turn. _

**_Disclaimer_**_: Not mine. Still._

**Coward**

The first time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named approaches him and tells him to spy on his friends and report back to him, Peter is so scared he wets his pants.

He doesn't even notice as he pees. It's only when the dark lord glances down at the puddle at his feet, cruelly amused, that Peter notices what he's done.

The next time the dark lord comes to him, demanding his information, Peter doesn't have much to tell him and, displeased, Voldemort tortures him.

Once it's over Peter realizes that, once again, his pants are drenched and that night, reliving the torture in a dream, he soils his bed as well.

The dark lord sends for him the next time, instead of coming to him. Two burly looking Death Eaters come and force him out of his home. Using Side-Along Apparition they take him to the dark lord.

This time Peter stumbles to his knees and babbles everything he knows and Voldemort deems his information a little more useful and doesn't hurt him.

Not this time.

The threat of next time, though, is still there.

The first time Voldemort summons him to an actual Death Eater meeting it happens again. This time he feels it as it happens, the urine gushing down his legs, soaking his pants and his robes. Voldemort's fathomless red snake-like eyes are staring into his though, and stopping it from happening is more than he can manage.

The other Death Eaters mutter and move away from him as he stands there and urinates, his pee splattering onto the ground and soaking into the dirt at his feet.

Dimly he thinks to wonder why he can never control his bladder when he's around the dark lord.

Mostly he's too scared to think about it though.

If he's honest, that's how it's always been when he gets too scared. Whenever he's genuinely scared for his safety or his life, that is.

It had happened before with James, Sirius and Remus too. Remus had been in werewolf form and the rest of them had been transformed into animals to be with him.

Peter had accidentally transformed back. He hadn't meant to, it had just… happened.

Transforming into an animal had been hard for him in those days. It hadn't come as easily for him as it had for James and Sirius.

There he had been, in the middle of the woods, suddenly human again and with a werewolf bearing down on him.

He had started crying and shaking, pleading desperately with Remus as he tried to change back but it hadn't worked. Neither the pleading nor his attempts at transforming again.

James and Sirius had saved him, tackling Remus and getting his attention away from Peter and Sirius had led him off, deeper into the woods.

James had stayed behind and transformed back to himself so he could help Peter; and that was when Peter had noticed that he had wet himself in his fear, that he was in fact still wetting himself.

It had all happened in a matter of seconds and Peter had been horrified and completely unable to stop himself from continuing to pee. James had been very good about it, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder and waiting until he had finished wetting before he helped him to his feet and told him it could happen to anyone.

To Peter's knowledge James had never told Sirius or Remus about it. He had helped him back to the castle so he could get cleaned up and had promised him they would work with him and a mishap like this with his transforming would never happen again.

It didn't either. James had been a good friend. Loyal.

And now Peter was betraying him.

The dark lord though… the dark lord would kill him if he didn't. He would kill him, and Peter was too scared to refuse him.

He was a coward, he knew that. He accepted it.

A coward who wet his pants when he got scared.

Just a coward.


	8. In Divination

_A/N: I'm back again. I decided to write another of Harry. This one again implies a bedwetting past, though I don't think the Harry in the books has one..._

**In Divination**

Sitting in Divination class 13 year old Harry Potter struggled to keep his eyes open. Some days he thought Hermione had been right to drop Trelawney's class.

On the other hand though the chairs were so soft… and the tea fumes gave the room a soft soothing smell… beside him Ron was already dozing…

Harry's eyes drifted closed and soon he was fast asleep.

Professor Trelawney never noticed.

Harry slept through most of the class, moving in seat every now and then but not waking.

While he slept the four goblets of pumpkin juice he had drank at lunch worked their way through him, the pressure in his bladder building.

Harry, blissfully unaware, slept on.

Twenty minutes before the end of class Harry's bladder could take it no longer and it released.

As Harry peed the wetness steadily spread on his pants and robes but it wasn't until it started soaking into the armchair underneath him and he could feel the sogginess under his butt that he woke, his eyes snapping open, and with a huge effort managed to halt the flow of urine.

The damage was already done.

His pants were soaked all the way to his knees and his school robes glistened with wetness. The only saving grace was they were black so it wasn't very noticeable. He hoped.

It didn't look like anyone had noticed though, which Harry was relieved for.

How had this happened?

He hadn't wet himself in his sleep for almost a year! Why now? Why when he was in class, surrounded by other students?

And the worst part was he somehow still had to go.

Badly. _Very_ badly.

Beside him Ron was still asleep and at the front of the class Trelawney was droning on in her mystical voice. No one was looking at him and feeling the urgency in his bladder Harry took the opportunity to give his wet crotch a quick squeeze, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

Fifteen more minutes.

He didn't know how he was going to get out of the class without anyone seeing what he had done… not to mention he would be leaving a wet chair behind him.

Harry felt queasy with nerves as he considered it. His bladder kept pulsing with need though and it was hard to concentrate.

How had it gotten this bad in the span of one class period? How, even in his sleep, had he not noticed?

Five more minutes.

Harry was sure the clock didn't normally move this slowly.

He couldn't hold it much longer and he knew, with a dread sort of certainty, that if he didn't make to a loo _soon_ he would end up wetting himself the rest of the way.

When the bell finally rang signaling the end of class Harry was so intent on keeping his muscles clenched that it startled him and a jet of urine escaped into his already wet boxers but he was able to quickly stem the flow.

"Ready to go, mate?" Ron muttered, blinking his eyes open and gathering his books as the rest of their classmates filed out. "Mate?" he questioned when Harry, aside from moving his school bag to his lap, didn't move from his chair.

"Yeah, I just want to talk to Trelawney for a minute. You go ahead. I'll catch up," Harry told his friend, praying that Ron wouldn't look too closely at him, praying he couldn't tell how drenched his pants were, how much he still had to go.

"You want to talk to Trelawney?" Ron asked doubtfully and Harry grit his teeth, trying his best not to lose his patience and yell at his friend to leave him alone. Any minute now he was going to lose control though…

Harry swallowed nervously. "Yeah. I'll catch up. You go."

Ron frowned, studying Harry through narrowed eyes.

"You wet yourself when you fell asleep, didn't you?" he asked abruptly, his tone matter of fact, and Harry almost started peeing again in his surprise and horror.

"What?" he gasped, only just hanging on to his control.

Now Ron looked a little uncomfortable.

"I woke up about midway through class," the red head told him. "Long enough to see you had fallen asleep too. And you were… you were sort of… holding yourself. And I know you sometimes wet the bed, so…"

"How?" Harry asked, stunned, for a moment forgetting how urgent his situation was in his surprise.

"I saw you one night," Ron muttered, shifting his weight awkwardly. "I guess you woke up, you know… during, because you ran out of the dorm holding yourself and kind of, um, crying. And when you came back you did cleaning and drying spells on your bed. At first I thought it was just a one-time thing but I guess I started paying more attention and I saw a couple other times after that. Look Harry, it's no big deal. Charlie used to wet the bed too. You're still my best mate."

Emotion thick in his throat, a mixture of horror, embarrassment and relief, Harry swallowed. "Does anyone else know?" he asked quietly after a moment.

"No, I don't think so," Ron answered, shifting uncomfortably again. "Well… um, except for Neville," he amended after a few seconds.

_"Neville?"_ Harry gasped.

"Yeah, well, he woke me up once saying he had just come back from the bathroom and the curtains around your bed were open and it looked like you were wetting yourself. He wanted to know if we should get you up," Ron said quickly, as though afraid if he didn't get the words out fast they would get stuck. "I thought that would embarrass you though so we just closed the curtains so no one else would see and—"

Another wave of desperation hit Harry then and he groaned, doubling over in his seat and cutting Ron off.

"If we go now no one will see you," Ron told him. "Everyone's left. Even Trelawney," Ron said, looking around the classroom.

"I don't know if I can," Harry admitted, tears of frustration and embarrassment pricking at his eyes. "I still really have to go and I think if I stand up…"

Harry trailed off, finally giving up on his pride as he felt a spurt and holding himself with both hands.

Ron's eyes were wide. "Well you can't just sit there," he offered after a moment. "Come on mate, you can do it."

Slowly Harry stood, freezing halfway as he almost lost control again.

"Come on, Harry," Ron urged, picking up his books for him.

"It's going to come out," Harry whispered, completely humiliated.

"No, it's not, you can do this," Ron said encouragingly.

Swallowing Harry nodded and straightened the rest of the way up, managing to take one step before his bladder had once again had enough and released all on its own, pee suddenly streaming down his legs.

"No, no, no," Harry moaned, jumping around in a frenzied sort of potty dance, trying desperately to stem the flow.

Ron's mouth had fallen open in shock as he stared at his thirteen year old friend wetting his pants.

Panicked, not thinking clearly, Harry sat back down in his wet armchair, some part of his mind thinking wildly that since he had lost control when he stood, sitting might help him regain it.

It didn't work and, squirming frantically and holding himself with both hands, Harry sat in the soft armchair in the Divination classroom and peed in his pants as his best friend watched.

After he finished there was a long moment of silence during which Harry sat, dully horrified, and Ron just stood there. Finally the red head pulled out his wand and muttered a spell and suddenly Harry's clothes and chair felt dry and clean.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, not meeting his friend's eyes.

Ron cleared his throat and nodded. "No problem, mate," he said. "Want to head down to the Great Hall for dinner?" he asked after another moment had passed.

"Sure," Harry nodded, standing and pushing what had happened to the back of his mind.

And that was that.


	9. A Study in Differences

**A Study in Differences**

Being in the car with the Dursleys was never a pleasant experience for Harry Potter. Being in the car for long periods of time was even less so.

At least his aunt and uncle mostly ignored him, if given the chance. Dudley, however, would sit in the back with Harry and pinch and prod and hit him and there was nothing Harry could do. If he complained Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would, of course, take Dudley's side and if he actually struck back, no matter how justified, it would very definitely be Harry's fault in the eyes of his relatives.

Now, at least, Dudley had fallen asleep and nine year old Harry Potter was left mostly in peace. Which normally Harry would be glad for. Ironically enough, it was the one time Harry would have preferred his cousin to be up and awake. At least when Dudley was awake they had regular stops. His cousin demanded it and his aunt and uncle would never refuse their darling boy.

Now Dudley was asleep though, and Uncle Vernon was taking the opportunity to get as much driving done as possible. And Harry had to pee. It was getting pretty bad.

Harry had no illusions that the Dursleys would stop for him and besides that, he wasn't supposed to ask questions. Of any kind. And yet… surely Uncle Vernon wouldn't want him to wet all over his car seats? Right?

Swallowing nervously, one hand wedged into his crotch and his legs clenched as tightly as he could make them, Harry screwed up his courage.

"Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted and in the overhead mirror Harry could see Aunt Petunia's lips tighten.

That was apparently all the response he was going to get.

Harry swallowed again.

"Uncle Vernon, are we going to stop soon?"

"No asking questions!"

"Stop? Why would we stop?"

His aunt and uncle both responded at the exact same time and Harry winced.

"I… I need the loo," Harry admitted, knowing this was very unlikely to end well. Knowing also that he had to try.

"No stops," Uncle Vernon snarled. "You should have used it the last time! You better hold it, boy!"

"I _did_ use it the last time!" Harry argued, the injustice of this stinging.

"Don't you argue, boy!" Aunt Petunia said shrilly and Harry bit his tongue.

They drove on.

Dudley continued to sleep and Harry was trying his best not to cry.

He was spurting occasionally into his pants now and he could feel a slight wetness with the hand he still had pressed into his crotch. It was starting to look inevitable that he would have an accident in the car and there was no way the Dursleys would _not_ blame him.

All at once Dudley woke up crying and, startled, Harry looked over at him to see his cousin's pants steadily darkening. The sight made Harry's bladder throb and threaten to empty and Harry found himself doubled over in his seat in an effort not to wet himself.

"Mummy! Mummy, I'm having an accident!" Dudley wailed, sobbing, both hands clenched at his crotch as he peed.

"Hang on, Dudders!" Vernon called. "The next rest stop isn't for ten more minutes!"

"Hurry!" Dudley demanded, gaining control of his flow but still looking very desperate, his pants wet to about his mid-thigh.

"Almost there, Diddy-kins," Petunia simpered as her husband put his foot down and began speeding. "Just hang on for Mummy. You can do it."

"Daddy, hurry!" Dudley cried, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and Harry, sitting all but forgotten beside his cousin, couldn't help but agree.

Not that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed to care about his predicament. Only Dudley's.

"It's coming out!" Dudley screamed a few minutes later, starting to pee again against his will and at the sight Harry felt his own bladder beginning to release, a stream of urine suddenly shooting forcefully into his pants.

"We're here!" Vernon yelled, pulling into a small, dirty looking gas station.

Vernon and Petunia both hurried to help Dudley out while the 10 year old sat in his seat and cried, afraid to let go of himself for fear he would completely lose control.

Harry, the younger of the two and every bit as bad off as Dudley was left to his own devices. Removing one hand from his crotch he tried to open his door, wetting himself some as he did so, but ultimately managing to get out on his own.

He took grim satisfaction in the knowledge that at least he had managed to keep his seat dry while Dudley's seat had a basketball sized wet spot on it.

Entering into the convenience store to ask about the restrooms they must have made quite the sight. Dudley was crying and red faced, one of his parents on each side, doubled over with his hands pressed to his crotch and clearly losing the fight, urine gushing down his legs and leaving a trail behind him.

Harry was making his way just behind his relatives, managing to hold on better than Dudley but still obviously in need of the toilet, the crotch of his pants clearly wet and slowly expanding in wetness.

The man behind the counter quickly handed Vernon the key to the bathroom, wincing as he apologetically told him there was only one restroom.

Harry felt his heart plummet.

There was no question whom his aunt and uncle would make sure got there first.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw the attendant giving him a sympathetic look.

The loo was its own building behind the convenience store and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia rushed the crying Dudley into it without even glancing at their nephew despite the fact that Harry was pretty sure Dudley was finished now. His cousin was no longer holding himself and his pants were entirely drenched. Sure enough, a moment after disappearing into the loo with his wife and son, Uncle Vernon reemerged and hurried to the car, returning with fresh clothes for Dudley in his arms.

Harry was left to wait outside, hopping from foot to foot in a frantic potty dance.

Finally the nine year old couldn't take it anymore and his bladder released all on its own and it was while he was standing there wetting himself, tears streaming down his cheeks, that the restroom door opened and the Dursleys were suddenly staring at him.

"Freak," Uncle Vernon grunted, walking past Harry in disgust.

"Come on, Diddy, darling," Aunt Petunia murmured to her son, not meeting Harry's eyes as she too walked past the wetting child.

Dudley, dry now but still sniffling, his eyes red from crying, purposely bumped into Harry as he went by, causing his younger cousin to lose his balance and fall to the ground. "Serves you right, freak," he said spitefully before following after his parents.

Harry landed painfully on his side in the gravel, his elbow taking the brunt of the fall and jarring his whole arm.

It hurt to move after that and by the time he managed to get to his feet again he had finished peeing, his pants completely soaked, dirt and gravel sticking to the wetness.

"Change into these," Aunt Petunia snapped at him, appearing just as he was starting to wonder what he should do and thrusting dry clothes at him. "Put your wet things in this and hurry back to the car, we haven't got all day," she said, handing him a plastic bag and leaving him without another word.

When Harry got back to the car Dudley was sitting on his dry side and there was a towel over the spot Dudley had peed in, though Harry suspected it was more for the sake of the seat then for him.

"Took your time," Uncle Vernon muttered darkly when Harry got into the car, barely giving him time to get his seatbelt on before hastily pulling away.

Harry didn't respond and the rest of the ride was spent in miserable silence.

Harry could feel Dudley's urine soaking through the towel and into his dry clothes. He didn't complain. What would be the point?

This was what life was for him and his aunt and uncle clearly didn't care.


	10. At the Burrow

_A/N: I don't know why I pick on Harry so much. I guess it's just because with his abusive life with the Dursleys (and even if it's not really a physical abuse it _is_ still abuse) he seems like the natural choice to have a problem with bedwetting._

_I was even thinking of doing the scene I mentioned in a previous chapter - when Ron says Neville woke him up because Harry was wetting himself. Any thoughts on that? Should I do it?_

_Anyway, obviously Harry Potter and all related characters do not and never will belong to me._

_On with the story..._

**At the Burrow**

It was his first night at the Burrow. Twelve year old Harry Potter still could believe that Ron, Fred and George had shown up at the Dursleys to get him in a _flying_ car. The Weasleys were fantastic and Harry, lying in cot in Ron's room, couldn't help but be a little jealous of his best friend.

Ron snored in his bed and Harry found himself grinning. At least he got to spend the rest of his summer here. At the Dursleys he couldn't wait for summer to end so he could go back to Hogwarts but now he found himself perfectly content to let summer stretch out.

Still grinning Harry fell asleep, eager for the next day to start.

It was 3:30 in the morning, still fast asleep, when Harry started squirming in his cot. Squirming but not waking. If he had been awake he would have realized what the problem was and he would have headed to the bathroom without a second thought.

In his sleep though he squirmed and gripped at his crotch and slept on.

It was a little after 4 AM when his body decided to give him the relief he so desperately need and, lying on his stomach, still sound asleep, he began peeing into his cot, the warm wetness soaking through his pajama pants and into the mattress, even spreading up to his stomach and shirt some before he woke, panicked, and managed to stop it.

Ron didn't wake as Harry, heart hammering wildly, got to his feet and stared at the obvious wet spot on his cot, dancing in place as he quickly realized he still had to go. He didn't want to leave the wet cot though – what if Ron woke up while he was gone?

His bladder throbbed though and Harry realized he didn't have much of a choice unless he wanted to wet himself while he was wide awake too.

Quickly he turned and as quietly as he could he made his way out of his friend's bedroom, praying Ron wouldn't wake before he could fix the bed. Harry bit his lip then, wondering how he would do that without anyone knowing. It was summer so he couldn't use magic and he didn't know where fresh sheets were kept. Besides, Mrs. Weasley would surely notice wet sheets in her laundry.

Against his will he spurted into his already wet pajama pants and abruptly he pushed the thoughts of dealing with his wet bed out of his mind. He would worry about that after he had gotten to the bathroom.

Gripping his crotch tightly, he hurried through the dark halls, trying his best not to cry.

His first sleep over ever and he had wet the bed. It was even worse than when he wet his four poster at Hogwarts because he at least knew how to hide that.

Abruptly he came to a halt in front of the bathroom, panic bubbling up in him as he bounced up and down in a frantic potty dance.

There was someone in there. Why hadn't that occurred to him? And this was the only bathroom he knew of. With as many people as the Burrow held he was sure there were more but he hadn't thought to ask anyone during the day.

He doubled over in front of the bathroom as he started to leak into his already wet pajama pants, gripping his penis desperately with both hands and trying to be as quiet as possible so no one would wake up.

Maybe he should knock on the door?

The Dursleys would just laugh or yell at him, depending on which one of them was in the bathroom, and while Harry didn't think the Weasleys would respond that way he still couldn't make himself announce to whoever was in there that he was out here and needed the loo.

He could hear whoever it was moving around and then all at once he could hear them peeing and Harry, leaning against the wall now, sagged to the floor, gripping himself as tightly as he could in an effort not to totally wet himself at the sound of it.

He was spurting every couple seconds though and he suddenly became aware that he was crying now too, tears and snot streaming down his face.

He couldn't help it and when the toilet flushed he moaned.

The sink started running next and finally Harry couldn't take it anymore and sitting on the floor outside of the Weasleys' bathroom in the dark hallway, the twelve year old began completely wetting his pants.

* * *

That was the sight that greeted Mrs. Weasley when she opened the bathroom door to begin getting ready for the day, light spilling into the hall and illuminating her youngest son's best friend sitting in a puddle on her floor, holding himself and crying as he peed.

"Oh, Harry, dear," she gasped, hurrying over to him.

"S-sorry, Mrs. W-Weasley," the poor boy gasped even as urine continued to stream out from between his fingers and sobs hitched in his throat.

"Nonsense. It's no problem, dear," Mrs. Weasley said soothingly as Harry's body sagged and he seemed to finish peeing. "Why didn't you say something though? I would have let you in."

"I d-didn't want to b-bother you," Harry said, not meeting her eyes, his cheeks as red as Ron's hair and Mrs. Weasley felt her heart clench.

"Harry, you could never be a bother. Not even if you tried," she said softly, her voice firm. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, all right?

Still sniffling Harry nodded and got to his feet and with a flick of her wand the floor and his pajamas were completely clean and dry again.

"There now," Mrs. Weasley said, satisfied. "Much better. Would you like to go back to sleep for a while or would you like breakfast now? Ron probably won't wake up for another few hours at least."

"Um… sleep, but…" Harry trailed off, embarrassed and Mrs. Weasley frowned.

"What is it, dear?"

"I, er… I wet my bed too," Harry admitted, blushing again, his eyes downcast.

"Easily fixed," Mrs. Weasley assured him, turning and leading the young boy back up the stairs and in Ron's room she flicked her wand at Harry's cot, cleaning and drying it. Then she turned and pulled Ron's covers up over his sleeping form before turning back to Harry. "There now, dear. All better," she murmured, to Harry's surprise kissing him affectionately on the cheek before leaving the room.

Harry settled back into his now dry bed and closed his eyes. He still felt horribly embarrassed but on the whole he figured it all could have turned out so much worse.

Ron didn't know how lucky he was to have his family and Harry reflected that he was right to be jealous of his friend earlier. Harry sighed. If only Ron knew.


	11. Fear and Lack of Choices

_**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Never will be._

**Fear and Lack of Choices**

Seventeen year old Draco Malfoy had been sent to his bedroom by Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord had killed the Hogwarts professor of Muggle Studies in the Malfoy's drawing room and then he had sent Draco to his room, presumably so he could talk of more private matters with his Death Eaters.

He had told Draco in no uncertain terms not to come out until he called for him again.

Draco had been all too happy to go, all too eager to be out of the Dark Lord's terrifying presence and wasn't until he was in his bedroom that he had realized he needed to use the restroom.

And now, four hours later, he still had not been called back out and he didn't know what to do. His need was getting bad but the Dark Lord had told him not to leave his bedroom. Not until he told him to.

If he was honest with himself Draco was starting to worry that he would piss his pants while he was waiting and the idea of what the Dark Lord would do _then_… Draco didn't even want to think about it.

Or, even worse, what if he managed to hold it but then when the Dark Lord called him out he couldn't anymore and he pissed himself in front of him?

Draco remembered the red, slit like eyes of the Dark Lord and felt his knees weakening and his bladder throbbing and he shuddered.

Neither situation was very appealing and yet with every second that passed his bladder pulsed and throbbed more and they became more and more likely.

Groaning he threw himself into his bed and under his covers he allowed himself to grip his crotch to try and relieve some of the pressure.

It didn't work and to his horror he felt himself spurting into his pants.

Panicked, he scrunched up into a ball; both of his hands wedged between his legs, and tried to think clearly.

What could he do? As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was going to piss himself. Soon.

Unless he was willing to leave his bedroom even though the Dark Lord had told him not to… gleaming red eyes flashed through his mind and he whimpered into his pillow.

No. He wasn't going to disobey the Dark Lord.

Think. If he wet his pants he could just spell his clothes dry. It was summer and he wasn't technically allowed to use magic but the Ministry was in shambles and Draco doubted anyone would notice. He didn't have his wand though. In his eagerness to leave the Dark Lord he had accidentally left it in the drawing room…

A wave of desperation hit him and Draco clenched his fingers more tightly around himself… _think_…

Well. He was in his bedroom. He could just change his pants afterward… of course without his wand or the use of the bathroom he would still smell like pee…

Draco felt tears soaking his pillow.

He didn't _want_ to wet himself.

Lying there in his bed, his sheets and covers scrunched around him as he fought not to piss himself, an idea occurred to him.

His heart beating wildly, Draco considered it.

It wasn't _much_ better than wetting his pants.

Still… it was the only other option he could think of…

And he was running out of time.

Mind made up Draco quickly got to his feet and, with one hand still clenched at his crotch, wrenched his green sheet off of his bed. Once it was free he hurriedly removed his pants and boxers and, trembling violently as he stood there half naked, feeling a mixture of shame, fear and desperation he grabbed his sheet again and shoved it between his legs just as his bladder completely released.

Frantically Draco balled the sheet up and kept it pressed to his crotch as he peed without hope of stopping himself.

The relief was heavenly and almost without thinking about it Draco sank to his knees and then down onto his butt as he continued to urinate, keeping his penis buried in the sheet that was pressed between his legs.

There was a knock at his door then and it opened. "Draco, the Dark Lord is ready…"

Narcissa trailed off as she spotted her son crouched on his floor and peeing into a sheet, tears streaming down his face.

Seeing his mother Draco tried with all his might to regain his control but his bladder mercilessly continued to empty itself and with dull horror Draco realized an instant before it happened that his sheet wasn't going to be enough.

"Oh, Draco," Narcissa murmured, shutting the door quietly behind her and watching with compassion as the sheet couldn't absorb the urine anymore and wetness started spreading on the carpet around her son.

When he was finally finished Draco sat, shocked, in a circle of wetness, the drenched sheet still between his legs.

"M-Mother?" he asked shakily after a moment, hating himself for how childlike his voice sounded and without a word Narcissa banished the mess around him and he, the sheet and the floor were suddenly all clean again.

"Mother, I'm s-sorry," Draco whispered.

"There's no time, Draco, the Dark Lord wants you with the rest of us right now, but you have nothing to be sorry about," Narcissa said, her voice soft but anxious. "Get dressed quickly."

So saying she turned her back to give him some privacy and shakily he got to his feet. There was a small circle of wetness on the pants that he had thrown onto his bed and with a quick glance at his mother's still turned back Draco got a fresh pair of boxers and pants from his drawer.

He could ask his mother to clean them but… he felt embarrassed enough as it was.

"Ready, Mother," he said after a moment and Narcissa nodded.

"Let's go. We need to hurry," she murmured, turning to look at him and gently running a hand through his hair before quickly leading the way out of the room.

With a deep breath Draco steeled himself and followed her.

_A/N: With the exception of Pettigrew, who I just wanted to make fun of, this is the oldest I've made a character yet. However, I think he's justified in this. After all, if Voldemort sent me to my room I wouldn't want to leave either. No matter how badly I had to use the bathroom._


	12. Small Blessings

_A/N: In my head, though there wasn't a convenient place to say so in the bulk of the story, this piece takes pace early in Neville, Ron and Harry's second year at Hogwarts._

**_Disclaimer_**_: Not mine. Never will be._

**Small Blessings**

Neville Longbottom jerked awake, heart pounding wildly, bladder throbbing with need and immediately scrambled to his feet.

He had to pee _now_.

Ron was snoring a couple beds over and in the bed next to the red head Harry Potter turned onto his back in his sleep and Neville almost paused. It was odd that Harry's bed curtains were open. Normally he was very careful to shut them.

Neville's boxers were starting to feel distinctly damp though and he pushed the thought from his mind and hurried out of the room.

Entering the bathroom he broke into a run for the stall, quickly pushing his pajama pants down as he went, only just freeing himself before he started peeing; wetting on the floor for a couple of seconds before he could get himself situated in front of the toilet.

That had been close. Much closer than Neville cared to admit.

After he was finished he tiredly made his way back to the dorm room and right away his eyes were once again drawn to Harry's strangely open bed.

Harry's curtains were always closed.

As he watched Harry moved a hand to his crotch and held himself. Neville felt his eyes widen and having just woken up himself with an intense need to urinate he recognized the move for what it was.

Neville was in front of Harry's bed now and on his way to his own, but… surely Harry would wake up any second… the black haired boy's face was screwed up with the effort of holding himself.

Surely it would be embarrassing for Harry if Neville woke him up and told him to go to the bathroom… and it wasn't like Harry was going to wet the bed, right?

Just then Harry moaned and pulled his hand up to his chest as he began to pee, his pajama pants and the blankets around him steadily darkening in color.

Neville stood stunned, unsure what to do. The Boy Who Lived was wetting the bed.

Ron snored again then, snapping Neville out of his shocked daze and he hurried over to the snoring boy's bed. "Ron! Ron, wake up!" he whispered urgently, shaking the red head.

"W-What is it? What's wrong?" Ron asked sleepily.

"It's Harry," Neville told him. "I think he's wetting the bed. Should we wake him up? Would he want us to do that?"

"Wetting the bed?" Ron repeated, pushing himself to his feet, suddenly more awake. "Oh, mate," he muttered regretfully when he got to Harry's bed and Neville, coming beside him could see it was too late. Harry's bed was drenched and he was covered in his own urine. Even his pajama shirt looked wet. And still he slept.

"S-should we get him up?" Neville asked, uncertain, acutely aware as he looked at his wet friend of his own damp boxers. This so easily could have been him...

Ron seemed to hesitate. "No," he said at last. "If it was you, would you want Harry and me to know about it?"

"No. I guess not," Neville said doubtfully. "I-It just doesn't seem right to leave him like this."

"We'll close his curtains," Ron said quietly. "So no one else will see him and when Harry wakes up if he wants to keep it private he can. He doesn't have to know we know."

* * *

In his four poster Neville anxiously listened for the sound of Harry waking up. He hoped he would do it soon. And definitely before anyone else saw him.

It was still early in the night so there was plenty of time.

Neville fell asleep waiting.

* * *

At seven AM six hours had passed since Harry first urinated in his bed and still he hadn't woken. In that time his pajamas and blankets had partially dried and were merely damp instead of completely soaked.

Unfortunately the time had also allowed his bladder to refill and he had to go quite badly so that when he turned over onto his side he could no longer take it and he once more began wetting himself. Harry sighed as he peed, a relieved smile spreading on his face before his expression turned to alarm and his eyes snapped open.

Quickly he sat up, immediately grabbing at himself with both of his hands and clenching every muscle he could, thankfully managing to stop the flow. Sitting in his bed panting as he held himself to keep from peeing anymore Harry took stock.

He still had to go. Really badly. Taking that into consideration and judging by the state of his bed… Harry's heart sank as he came to the conclusion that he must have already wet himself without waking.

He barely even remembered coming up to bed, he had been so tired. Which probably explained why he hadn't woken. He definitely didn't remember drawing the curtains around his bed closed… thankfully he must have though.

Small blessings.

By the sound of it he was the first person up too. And since it was Saturday there was a good chance his dorm mates would sleep for a while longer.

Okay. Now he just had to get to the bathroom.

Still holding himself with both hands he used his legs to try to scoot himself to the edge of the bed… and instantly lost control and starting peeing again.

"No, no, no, no," he whispered frantically to himself, trying desperately to stem the flow. It didn't work and he up sitting there in the middle of his already wet bed, doubled over with his hands pressed to his crotch while he peed forcefully through his fingers.

Finally finished, his pajamas, blankets and hands all dripping with urine, Harry miserably peeked out of his bed.

Thankfully everyone still seemed to be sleeping.

At least that was the one good thing he could get out of this.

No one had seen. No one knew.

Small blessings.


	13. At An Amusement Park

_A/N: A next generation fic! Enjoy!_

**_Disclaimer_**_: Not mine. _

**At An Amusement Park**

Seven year old Albus Severus Potter was excited. He, his older brother and his little sister were out for the day with their dad. They were at an amusement park. A Muggle amusement park, but it was still fun.

The only downside was Albus was starting to have to go pee… if he said something about needing the bathroom before their four year old sister though James would never let him live it down.

"Can we get on the Tornado next, Dad?" eight year old James asked eagerly, of course naming the biggest scariest looking roller coaster in the place.

"You have to be a certain height for that one, James, and I don't think you're quite tall enough," their dad said easily and Al breathed a sigh of relief, shifting from foot to foot anxiously and fighting the urge to grab himself.

"I'm hungry," Lily announced.

"I'm with your sister on this one. How about you two? Ready for lunch?" Harry asked, looking at his watch.

"Definitely," James said and Al nodded.

Ten minutes later, standing in line to get hotdogs and soda behind his siblings and dad, Al was bouncing up and down increasingly frantically and with a spike of need in his bladder his hand jerked and grabbed his crotch, squeezing to try and relieve some of the pressure.

Glancing up he saw Lily, her hand in their father's, solemnly watching him and he forced himself to let go, reminding himself that Lily was only four. If she didn't even need to go yet then he could certainly hold it.

Another five minutes and he was able to sit down at a bench to eat his lunch. He had trouble mustering any real enthusiasm for it though; his bladder was fast becoming the only thing he could think about. He did take a few drinks of his soda, they had been wandering around for a couple hours after all and he was pretty thirsty.

Unfortunately the liquids only made it worse and almost without realizing it he ended up with a hand between his legs under the table.

It was when lunch was finished and they went to get up that it happened. He spurted into his pants and with a gasp Al doubled over, both hands at his crotch.

"Daddy! Al's gonna have an accident!" Lily shouted and at her words Al felt tears prick his eyes and his dad was suddenly kneeling down to his level, his green eyes gentle.

"Al? You going to make it, pal?"

"I don't know," Al admitted, embarrassed. "I really have to go, Dad," he added in a whisper.

"Me too!" Lily piped up then and Al couldn't help an irrational spike of anger at his little sister. Why couldn't she have said something half an hour ago?

Quickly sizing his children up, deciding Albus was worse off, Harry got to his feet. "James, could you take Lily while I make sure Al makes it?"

"No!" Lily yelled, her lips trembling. "You, Daddy! I want you!"

"Come on, Dad, I can't go in the _girl's_ loo!" James shouted, aghast.

"Fine," Harry consented with a glance at Albus, knowing his son didn't have the time for him to stand here and argue with James and Lily about who would take who. "You go with your brother," he said to James. "No making fun of him, got it? I'll be there as soon as I can. You two stay together until I get there."

Every stall in the bathroom was filled and there was line to get in and Albus, already leaking into his pants despite his best efforts, couldn't help his groan of dismay.

"I need to go!" he moaned, doubled over at the waist and holding himself with both hands.

His pants already felt wet and he had to fight not to start crying.

"Come on, lad, I'll let you in before me, you can be next," a guy at the front of the line said kindly. "Hey, you in there! Hurry it up, will you?" he added, banging on the nearest stall door.

"I'll get out when I get out!" the voice in the stall yelled gruffly and Al choked on a sob, bouncing up and down as he lost control and peed for a few seconds, a large bludger sized wet spot on his crotch by the time he managed to stop it.

"We've got a little kid wetting his pants out here!" the man who had let them in front of him yelled angrily.

"He'll live, it's not the end of the world!" the guy in the stall yelled back.

"Jerk!" James shouted to Albus's surprise. It wasn't often that his brother was inspired to verbally defend him. Of course they spent most of their time with family and there wasn't generally much reason for James to defend him…

A little bit of pee shot out again before he could stop it and he felt a few tears stream down his face as well. "I want Daddy," he sniffed, the words escaping before he could snatch them back. James, however, didn't comment and as though his words had called Harry forth his father was suddenly weaving through the waiting men to get to his kids, Lily, her eyes closed and her face pressed into his shoulder, held on one arm.

"How are you boys doing?" Harry panted, having had to run to get to them as soon as he could.

"He's peeing in his pants," James told him, straightforward and Al felt his face flaming.

"The stalls are all full!" he yelled, unable to stop himself from crying now and squirting involuntarily into his pants as he spoke.

"Okay," Harry said, a calming hand on Al's head as he quickly assessed the situation and turned to his eldest son. "James, take your sister and wait right outside the bathroom. _Don't_ go anywhere and _don't_ let go of her hand; do you understand me?" he said firmly and at James' nod he put Lily down beside him and motioned them out.

"I don't think I can hold it, Daddy," Albus admitted tearfully once they were gone.

"It's okay, Al," Harry murmured reassuringly, noting the use of 'Daddy', which the seven year old generally only used when his brother wasn't around or when he was scared or really upset.

A toilet flushed then and as though that was what it had been waiting for Al's bladder released and he was suddenly peeing himself as he stood there, wetness spreading on his pants and urine running down his legs.

"It's coming out!" Al yelled hysterically, jumping up and down and holding himself, pee streaming through his fingers and as soon as the stall was empty Harry guided his son into it and closed the door behind them both, knowing the little boy would need his help.

"I can't get my pants undone," Al sobbed, a puddle fast forming at his feet.

"I've got it," Harry murmured, his wand in his hand now they were alone and with a quick nonverbal spell Al's pants and boxers were hanging on the hook on the door and he was suddenly peeing directly onto the floor. Harry gave him a gentle push and got him situated in front of the toilet.

When he was finished he stood there with tears streaming down his cheeks and a puddle at his feet and Harry, his heart clenching at the devastation he saw on his little boy's face, gently cupped his cheek in a wordless expression of love and comfort for a moment before moving to help him get his pants back on.

Fresh tears welled in Albus's eyes as Harry pulled the wet pants onto him. "Aren't you going to dry them?"

"We're in a Muggle park, Al," Harry murmured.

"The door is closed though!" Al said, whining a little without really meaning to.

"Yeah, but those people out there saw that you didn't completely make it so you can't go out there with dry pants," Harry said patiently, keeping his voice pitched low and trying to explain it as gently as he could.

"James will make fun of me," Al groaned miserably.

"James wet his pants at a Quiddich match he and I went to last month," Harry told him. "Trust me, he'll leave you alone."

Al's eyes widened in shock at the news and Harry bit back a grin, reflecting that he would have to make it up to James for revealing his secret. For now though it was worth it. Albus had needed it. And James could be surprisingly considerate at times for an eight year old prankster. He would be okay.

"Ready?" he asked softly and, still sniffling, Albus nodded.

"There he is," the man who had let Al cut in front of him in line said lightly when Albus and Harry emerged. "You did good, kid."

"But I wet my pants and cried," Al whispered, ashamed and not meeting his eyes.

"You were tough though and hung on as long as you could. And you only really started crying when your dad here came and it's a sad world indeed if you can't cry in front of your parents," the man told him. "You've got a good kid there," he added to Harry, winking good naturedly.

Harry grinned back. "Thank you," he said sincerely, nudging Al toward the sink so he would wash his hands.

* * *

"I think it's time to go home," Harry told his kids once he and Al had rejoined James and Lily.

James was the only one of them that looked like he could handle more but even he, looking at his younger siblings, Al with his tear-streaked face and wet pants and Lily practically falling asleep where she stood, nodded and agreed.

"Can you spell me dry _now?_" Al asked once they were home, his ordeal having made him grouchy.

"I think you should take a bath," Harry told him as Ginny kissed her son's head, offering silent and loving support, and then took Lily to put her down for a nap.

"Why can't you just do a spell?" Al grumbled, over tired and stressed tears welling in his eyes.

"I can," Harry acknowledged, putting an arm around his son and leading him up the stairs. "But whenever I had an accident as a kid, nothing went quite so far toward making me feel better as a bath did."

"_You_ had an accident before?" Al asked, his voice small and shocked.

"Everyone has accidents sometimes, Al. And yes, even I did," Harry said softly, offering his son a reassuring smile and after a thoughtful moment Al tentatively returned it.

"I'll take a bath then," he said and Harry grinned, ruffling his hair.

"Good choice."

"And maybe you can tell me more about when James wet his pants," Al said slyly.

Harry laughed.

Al would be just fine.


	14. The Sleepover

_A/N: Draco's son's turn. So. With Scorpius I decided to do sort of a mixture of the "Away from Home" chapter and the "At the Burrow" chapter. On we go..._

_**Disclaimer: **Still not__ mine._

**The Sleepover**

"This is so cool!" Albus Potter enthused. "I've never had anyone other than my cousins stay the night at my house."

"It's not that much different from the dorms at Hogwarts," Scorpius Malfoy said dismissively, trying his best for an indifferent tone.

In truth he had never had someone stay over with him either and had certainly never stayed the night at a friend's house. He had never actually stayed the night anywhere other than home and Hogwarts. Until now.

He and Al had been having fun. It was bedtime now though and suddenly being faced with actually spending the whole night in this strange house seemed… daunting.

"It _is_ different," Al argued, not noticing his best friend's apprehension.

Scorpius's stomach fluttered anxiously.

They talked for a while instead of sleeping and Scorpius had been starting to think it was okay. That he could do this. Albus fell asleep eventually though and Scorpius found that actually making himself sleep was another story entirely.

He couldn't relax.

All the shadows were unfamiliar. The sounds were unfamiliar.

At least when Al was awake he didn't notice those things as much.

Eventually, after Al had been snoring for a couple hours, Scorpius drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Distracted and uncomfortable as he was he didn't notice that he needed to pee and even if he had he would have dismissed it. It wasn't urgent, after all, and he didn't really want to venture out into the dark, strange halls…

His dreams were restless and stressful. He was wandering in long, unknown hallways and he didn't know how to get where he was going. He was looking for something but he wasn't sure what and there was an uncomfortable, leaning toward painful, pressure building…

After a time though, the pressure started to ease and he started to think maybe he had found whatever he was looking for…

Lying on his stomach on a cot in Al's room Scorpius peed into the bed without waking, finally relaxing. Urine soaked through his pajamas and sheets, seeping into the mattress and still Scorpius slept.

A half an hour passed before he woke suddenly, disoriented and confused and for a moment not remembering where he was. Al's gentle snores from the next bed reminded him and the next thing he noticed was that he seemed to be lying in a cocoon of wetness. His heart sank.

He hadn't wet the bed since… well actually he didn't remember ever wetting the bed.

So how and _why_ did it happen now? What if Al found out?

Embarrassed tears pricked and threatened to spill.

Scorpius closed his eyes and tried to think. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't use magic outside of Hogwarts and without magic he didn't know how to clean. And even if he did the Potters would notice wet sheets.

There was nothing for it. He would have to at least tell Mr. or Mrs. Potter.

Scorpius's heart thudded painfully at the thought.

Slowly and carefully he got out of the cot, trying his best to stay quiet, to not wake Al. His pajamas were drenched and sticking to him. Even his shirt was wet. Scorpius didn't understand how he hadn't woken up. How did something like this just happen? He was eleven years old!

If there were any way he could take care of this secretly…

There wasn't though and, heart beating wildly, he poked his head out of Al's room and looked up and down the hallway for either of Al's siblings, not wanting to chance running into them when it was so obvious he had wet the bed.

James in particular would probably never let him hear the end of it… he didn't see any sign of James or Lily though and as quietly as he could he crept out into the hallway.

The house was quiet. Really quiet. It almost seemed empty and Scorpius was just wondering if he would have to face the humiliation of knocking on Al's parents' bedroom door when he noticed light spilling out of a slightly ajar doorway.

Mr. Potter's office.

Gingerly he crept closer.

"Alright," he heard Mr. Potter saying tiredly. "I'll file a report in the morning. Thanks for letting me know, Ron."

Inching forward and peeking through the crack in the door Scorpius saw Al's uncle Ron Weasley's head in the fire.

"No problem, mate," Mr. Weasley said easily. "Figured you should know right away. In other news though, we still on for tomorrow night?"

"Definitely. The kids are looking forward to having you guys over to ring in the New Year," Mr. Potter said. "Speaking of the kids, there's something I need to take care of so I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Sure thing, mate. Good luck. Better you than me," Mr. Weasley said, grinning for an instant before his head disappeared from the flames.

Once he was gone Scorpius took a deep breath, trying to get up the courage to knock.

"You can come in, Scorpius," Mr. Potter's voice said softly and Scorpius jumped, startled. How had he known he was out here?

"S-sorry to bother you," Scorpius stammered, poking his head in the room but trying to hide his body and, more importantly, his wet pajamas.

What if Mr. Potter got angry?

"It's not a bother. Is something wrong?"

Mr. Potter's voice was kind enough but Scorpius's heart was hammering in his chest and he felt like he might be sick. "Um… it's just…" He trailed off, having trouble making himself say the words, his cheeks heating.

"Are you okay, Scorpius?" Mr. Potter asked, concerned, and Scorpius, to his dismay, felt tears spilling down his cheeks. His pants were sticking to his legs and he felt like a disgusting stupid little kid and he wanted to go home.

"I-I-I t-think I h-had an a-accident," Scorpius stuttered, and there was really no _think_ about it, he _knew_, but he was nervous and upset and scared and that was how the words came out and he just wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

"Accident?" Mr. Potter asked, sounding alarmed, and before Scorpius could try to formulate an explanation he had gotten up and pulled the door completely open.

For a few seconds Al's dad just stared at him, taking in the combination of his wet pajamas and tear streaked face.

"Ah," he said at last.

"I-I'm s-sorry," Scorpius whispered, humiliated. "I-I d-don't know how this h-happened."

"Really not a problem," Mr. Potter said gently, flicking his wand in Scorpius's direction and suddenly his skin and clothes felt wonderfully dry and clean. "The bed too, I take it?" Mr. Potter asked softly and miserably Scorpius nodded.

"Please don't tell Al," he begged tearfully, unable to help himself.

"I won't," Mr. Potter said reassuringly and Scorpius took a deep breath, still sniffling.

"I want to go home," he whispered and Al's dad nodded.

"You can if you really want to," he said softly. "But honestly Scorpius, I think you would regret it later. This really isn't a big deal, though believe me, I know it feels like it right now. You and I are the only two that have to know about it, though. And Al will be disappointed if you're not here in the morning."

Scorpius hesitated, unsure. He probably would regret it if he left, he knew Mr. Potter was right about that. Besides, if he left how would he explain it to Al later? He really felt like he wanted to be home though…

"Tell you what," Mr. Potter said, watching him and smiling a little. "How about we fire call your parents and you can talk to them. After that if you still want to go home that's fine. If not though, feel free to stay. Deal?"

Scorpius nodded, wiping tears from his face. "Deal."

It was his dad that climbed through the fire into Mr. Potter's office in answer of their call and the minute he straightened up Scorpius threw himself into his arms, feeling his dad stiffen in surprise for a moment before hugging him back.

"What's this about? What's wrong?" his dad asked, worried.

"I didn't mean to," Scorpius said, burying his face in his dad's cloak, starting to cry again against his will.

"You didn't mean to what?" his dad demanded. "What did you do to my son, Potter?"

"Mr. Potter helped me, he didn't do anything," Scorpius said quickly. He knew there was something between his dad and Al's dad and it hadn't occurred to him that this might make it worse. "I… I…"

And again he had trouble making himself say the words and his eyes filled with fresh tears and he looked at Mr. Potter helplessly.

"He wet the bed," Al's dad explained, mercifully coming to Scorpius's rescue.

"Wet the bed?" Scorpius dad repeated, shocked. "Scorp, that's not like you."

"I don't know how it happened. I was uncomfortable and scared and it was _different_ and then I fell asleep and when I woke up I had peed in the bed and Mr. Potter did a spell to dry me and said I could see you if I wanted," Scorpius said in a rush, tears streaming down his face again and he could feel himself trembling and then all at once his dad pulled him into a hug.

Scorpius melted against him.

"What do you want to do now?" his dad asked after a minute, rubbing Scorpius's back reassuringly.

Scorpius sighed, opening his eyes to look at Mr. Potter.

Al's dad had been right. If he left he would regret it, and truthfully he felt a lot better now that he had seen his dad…

"Can I stay?" he asked in a small voice.

"If it's okay with Mr. Potter," his dad said carefully.

"Of course," Mr. Potter said immediately and Scorpius's dad nodded.

"You're okay then?" he asked Scorpius softly.

"Yeah. Sorry if I woke you," Scorpius muttered.

"You didn't," his dad assured. "I suppose I'll pick you up tomorrow then, huh?" So saying he pulled Scorpius in for another quick hug before nodding at Al's dad. "Potter," he said, his voice distantly polite and the two adults exchanged a look then that Scorpius didn't miss but also didn't entirely understand.

"Draco," Mr. Potter answered back and Scorpius saw his dad startle slightly, like he wasn't used to Mr. Potter saying his name and then, with one more glance at Scorpius, his dad was gone.

"Ready to go back to bed?" Mr. Potter asked softly.

"What if Al woke up? What if he's already seen the bed?" Scorpius asked, suddenly worried.

Mr. Potter smiled. "Al sleeps like a rock. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Walking back to Al's bedroom with Mr. Potter, Scorpius felt his bladder twinge as they passed the bathroom and he hesitated, looking between Mr. Potter and the loo nervously.

Mr. Potter, of course, noticed. "Don't worry about me," he said lightly. "I can find Al's room on my own. When you're ready the bed will be waiting for you."

Blushing some Scorpius nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Potter," he whispered, not just meaning for the bed and Mr. Potter smiled again.

"Anytime."


	15. Diagon Alley

_**Disclaimer: **Not mine. _

**Diagon Alley**

Three year old Percy Weasley skipped happily along Diagon Alley looking at this and that. It was a bright sunny day and he was happy to be out and about with his mummy and when he first felt the twinge in his bladder that he was learning meant he had to go potty he almost ignored it and let it go, only at the last second remembering his mummy hadn't put a nappy on him this morning and quickly grabbing himself to hold it in.

It was a big day. He was a big boy now and this was his first outing without a nappy.

Percy felt proud that he had remembered. Sometimes at home, playing with his brothers, he would forget and accidentally potty in his pants. Then he would be all wet and Bill and Charlie would call him a baby. Percy didn't like being wet. And he wasn't a baby.

Today, his mummy had said she trusted him not to have to wear a nappy when they were out.

Percy felt special. He was a big boy now. Just like Bill and Charlie.

Fred and George were still babies and so they weren't big boys. They didn't know when they had to potty like Percy did.

Happily he turned to tell his mummy that he needed to potty, pleased that he wouldn't have an accident and eager for her to praise him but she wasn't there. Percy froze in shock, his hand falling from his crotch. She had been right behind him. Where had she gone?

Panic filled him – he had never been separated from his mummy before and the idea of not knowing where she was scared him.

Suddenly he felt his leg getting wet and, startled, he looked down at it, shocked to realize he was pottying, the pee-pee all going down one of his pant legs.

Quickly he thrust his hand down his pants and grabbed himself again, trying to stop it from coming out, tears filling his eyes.

He wanted his mummy. Why wasn't she here?

Mummy always told him if he was ever lost to stay put and she would find him. So that was what Percy did. He stood there, shifting from foot to foot so the pee-pee wouldn't start coming out again, and waited.

He didn't understand how he had gotten lost and he still had to potty and his pants were wet and he wanted his mummy.

He started crying then, tears spilling over his cheeks and by the time his mummy found him what was probably only a couple minutes later Percy, feeling scared and ashamed, was pottying again, the wetness rapidly spreading on his pants.

"Oh, _Percy!_" his mummy shrieked, pulling him into a tight hug, not seeming to notice that he was wetting himself and Percy cried harder.

"I d-didn't mean to l-lose you!" Percy sobbed, both of his hands stuffed down his pants and clenched around his privates as he continued to potty.

"Oh baby, it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, okay?" his mummy said, cupping his face in her hand and kissing his cheek.

"I'm going pee-pee," Percy whispered, embarrassed, the last of his wet squirting through his fingers and into his pants as he spoke.

"Hush, don't worry about it," his mummy said, brushing hair off his forehead.

"Big boys aren't 'posed to potty in their pants," Percy told her, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Normally, no, but when they're lost and scared it's okay," his mummy said softly, flicking her wand and drying him.

Needing comfort he held his arms up to her and without question she picked him up and rocked him. "You ready to go home?" she asked softly and, still sniffling, he buried his face in her shoulder and nodded, the day out having lost its charms and with a small _pop_ his mummy Apparated them both home.


	16. OWLs

_A/N: Rose Weasley's turn. I've decided I want to do all of the next generation kids at least once. And by all I mean Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione's kids. Maybe Teddy at some point. We'll see. Anyway..._

**Disclaimer: **_ Still not mine. _

**O.W.L.s**

Stay hydrated, her dad had told her. You don't want to be parched midway through the exams. It makes it hard to concentrate, he had said.

Well. She had listened. She wasn't parched. She had a giant (and now half empty) bottle of water with her.

And she was midway through her written Transfiguration O.W.L.

Fifteen year old Rose Weasley was definitely still finding it hard to concentrate though. The water had gone through her with amazing speed and now she seriously was in need of a restroom.

In hindsight Rose figured she should have been more sparing with her water.

She just wanted so badly to do well on her exams and she was so nervous and she had just kept drinking. And she couldn't leave to go to the bathroom, not without turning in her exam as finished. And she wouldn't do that. The O.W.L.s were too important.

She had to pee so badly though that she couldn't concentrate.

Her mind was going in circles.

Rose forced herself to take a deep breath.

Maybe if she could just find a more comfortable position…

Gingerly she shifted, gasping in alarm when instead of helping she ended up spurting into her panties and quickly she jammed her hand between her legs to keep the warm wetness she could suddenly feel from spreading.

Tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked rapidly to make them go away.

She needed to concentrate.

Eight minutes later she had only managed to answer three multiple choice questions.

Most of her time was spent holding herself and trying desperately not to wet herself.

Three more minutes and she spurted into her panties twice in rapid succession.

Five more minutes. One more question answered. Her bladder throbbed.

Four more minutes. She was going to wet herself. It was going to happen any moment now and Rose didn't know what to do. This wasn't supposed to happen to fifteen year olds!

Another two minutes. She was spurting into her underwear. Again and again and again. And then again. The back of her skirt was uncomfortably wet now and her chair felt damp.

Rose could feel her cheeks heating.

Another minute passed and it happened. Her bladder just… gave up on her… and she was peeing and no matter how tightly she clenched her legs she couldn't stop it.

Urine gushed out of her, filling her chair and spilling onto the floor, the dripping very loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"Weasley's pissing herself!" someone shouted and the people in the seats around Rose all scrambled away frantically, some of them laughing.

Rose buried her face in her arms on her desk and hid her face as she peed. She had never been more humiliated in her life. Not even when her little brother had walked in on her after she had gotten out of the shower.

Once she was finished wetting herself she kept her head buried, afraid to look up and face everyone. She could hear whispers and laughter from her classmates.

Then there was a hand on her shoulder.

"Rosie?"

_Al._ At his voice Rose's breath hitched on a sob and she turned to him and buried her face in his chest as she cried.

After she had calmed down some she was led from the exam hall to get cleaned up.

An owl would be sent to her parents and she was told she would be able to retake the test.

Next time, Rose resolved, she would take less water.


	17. Quiddich Match

_**Disclaimer: ** Harry Potter and all related characters do not and never will belong to me._

**Quiddich Match**

"Go Hornets!" eight year old James Sirius Potter yelled, jumping up and down in the Quiddich stadium as he cheered for his team.

It was his first ever real live Quiddich game and the Hornets were his favorite team ever and his dad had gotten tickets so he could see them. The best part was his dad had said it was an outing just for the two of them and they hadn't brought his little brother or sister, both of whom James loved very much but… it was still nice to have his dad all to himself… and at a Hornets game!

James didn't think he had ever been quite so excited; which was perhaps why when he first felt the twinge in his bladder he didn't get up right away. He was just having so much fun. He figured he could at least wait until the end of the game. After all, who knew what he would miss if he got up? What if the game ended? And he missed it?

That was the problem though with Quiddich as James, still sitting in his seat over an hour later and trying not to squirm too much, lest his father notice, was figuring out. The game could end at any time. Minutes from nor or hours from now.

The Hornets scored right as James lost control and began squirting into his pants and thankfully he was able to pass off his desperate bouncing potty dance as enthusiasm for his team.

Afterward he could feel the dampness on his underwear but he hadn't lost enough to show on his pants and, eagerly scanning the game, James figured he could hold it a little longer.

Fifteen minutes later he was still holding it but it was getting a lot harder not to stick his hands between his legs to try and make it a little easier. His dad would probably notice that though so he only risked quick squeezes here and there.

If he was honest with himself he was starting to consider saying something to his dad. He didn't know where the bathrooms were but his dad probably did. He still didn't want to miss any of the game but… maybe just a few minutes wouldn't be so bad?

The game probably wouldn't end while he was gone, right?

James bit his lip as his bladder throbbed and he leaked a little bit into his pants again.

Maybe…

The Hornets scored and James leapt out of his seat to cheer, a stream of urine shooting out and trickling down his leg as he did so.

Heart beating wildly, James chanced a glance at his pants as he sat back down. A long but thin stream of wetness was visible along the inside of his leg.

What if his dad was angry at him for not saying something sooner?

What if he got in trouble _and_ missed the end of the game?

Chewing on his lip as he debated he couldn't help it and he lost control again for a few seconds and without thinking about it he was suddenly gripping himself with both hands and by the time he regained control the crotch of his pants was obviously wet.

He was sweating with the effort of not wetting himself more and he knew it was time to tell his dad. Sending out a prayer that the game wouldn't end in the next few seconds he turned to his father right as the stadium erupted in cheers for another score.

"Dad?" he asked, swallowing nervously, but over the cheers of the audience his father didn't seem to hear him.

His bladder pulsed and he doubled over in his seat. "Daddy!" he yelled miserably, unthinkingly reverting to a more childlike form of address in his panic and Harry's head jerked to him, alarmed. "Daddy, I need to g—"

James choked off his words in horror, his eyes going wide as his bladder let go and he began wetting himself. His dad, seeing what was happening, scooped him up into his arms and began running with him to the loo.

Clenching his eyes shut James turned his head into Harry's shirt managed to mostly stop himself from peeing. He was still leaking a little and he had to fight with everything he had not to let more out.

"Dad," he groaned, pleading.

"Almost there," Harry murmured to him but James had reached his breaking point and all of a sudden it felt like his bladder exploded, urine bursting out of him.

There was no stopping it this time and his dad, perhaps realizing that James would be completely finished by the time they reached the loo, stopped and just held him.

Keeping his face pressed into his dad's shirt while he peed James felt himself start crying too, completely humiliated and, finally finishing, he stayed still, afraid to look up at his father. He felt spent but also relieved. And mortified.

He was eight years old.

Way too old to wet his pants like this.

His dad stayed quiet and just held him, letting him have whatever time he needed and after a moment, never one for stillness or quiet, James couldn't take it and he stirred.

Harry set him gently on his feet and James surveyed himself in embarrassment. He was drenched and glancing up at his father he flinched in guilt. He hadn't realized it while it was happening but of course he had peed on Harry too. There was a large wet spot on his dad's shirt. His dad, though, hadn't said a word.

"Why did you wait so long?" his dad asked him now, voice soft.

"I'm sorry!" James burst out, his face streaked with tears and his cheeks burning. "I didn't want to miss the game!"

His dad raised a brow wryly. "I understand the impulse but was this really better?" he asked.

"No," James whispered, shuffling his feet and looking at the ground.

"Well, what's done is done," Harry replied, waving his wand and cleaning them both. "You ready to go back and watch the rest of the game?"

James' head shot up. "We can still watch?"

"I don't see why not," Harry said, grinning at the happiness that broke over James' face.

"Let's go!" James hollered, taking off at a run back to their seats and Harry, shaking his head fondly, followed after.


	18. A Long, Horrible Day

_A/N: Back to Harry for a chapter..._

**_Disclaimer_: ** _As ever, it's still not mine._

**A Long, Horrible Day**

In the kitchen, urine spurting into his pants as he frantically tried to keep Dudley's bacon from burning; 10 year old Harry Potter wondered how the day had taken such a turn for the worse so early in the morning.

He had actually woken up in a dry bed that morning. Or, technically, a dry nappy as Aunt Petunia had long ago tired of cleaning his bed so often and now made him wear nappies at night. Sometimes, on the nights he wet more than once he peed through them. That morning though, he had woken up dry.

As a consequence he'd had to pee much more than he usually did in the mornings but he had thought it a small price to pay for the victory of being dry. Hurriedly he had gotten out of his pajamas and nappy, dressed and waited for his aunt to come unlock his cupboard so he could go pee and then start making breakfast.

Normally his cupboard wasn't locked at night but Dudley had made up some offense against him the night before and Uncle Vernon had locked him in.

So he had been forced to wait, his desperation building.

And he had waited. And waited. And waited.

He had forgotten it was a Saturday and so there was no work for Uncle Vernon and no school for him and Dudley. And so the household would, of course, take longer to get going.

In his cupboard Harry had gotten increasingly desperate. Desperate to the point that he had considered ignoring his shame and putting his nappy back on and just letting go. At least then he would have some relief.

Thankfully (or so he had thought) Aunt Petunia had come and unlocked his cupboard before he had sank that low, snapping at him to go make bacon, eggs and pancakes for breakfast and Harry had rushed out, trying his best not to hold himself, and hurried in the direction of the loo.

"Vernon's taking a shower," Aunt Petunia had snapped, seeing where he was going. "You can go to the bathroom after breakfast."

Dudley was already waiting at the table, fully dressed and his hair still wet from the shower. "Hurry up, freak, I'm hungry," he demanded as soon as he saw his cousin.

And so Harry had gotten breakfast going, moving around and bouncing and shifting his weight much more often than was normal and it hadn't taken Dudley long to realize something was wrong and to start grinning.

And now Harry was pretty sure he was about to wet himself while Dudley's bacon fried on the stove.

Aunt Petunia walked into the kitchen then and quickly Harry turned beseechingly to her. "Please, can I just use the loo upstairs really quickly?" he pleaded. "I'll come right back, I swear!"

"Mummy, I'm hungry," Dudley whined. "Make him finish my breakfast first!"

"Please, Aunt Petunia!" Harry gasped, to his horror losing a long squirt into his pants.

"Finish the food. You can hold it," Aunt Petunia snapped at him and desperate, on the verge of wetting himself completely, Harry turned back to the stove, one of his hands unconsciously gripping his now wet crotch.

"Stop touching yourself you disgusting little freak!" Aunt Petunia screeched, seeing where his hand was. "Wash your hands this instant and don't let me catch you doing that again!"

"Please," Harry begged, unable to help himself, a stream of urine bursting out and running down his leg when he moved his hand away, leaving a wet streak on his pant leg. "I'll come right back, I won't burn the food, just let me go to the loo now!"

"You heard what I said!" Aunt Petunia yelled shrilly while Dudley smirked behind her and, gulping, Harry turned to the sink to wash his hands.

The water was his undoing. As soon as he heard it splashing in the sink his bladder couldn't take it anymore and he began wetting himself, his pants rapidly darkening and a puddle of pee forming on his aunt's pristine kitchen floor. He couldn't stop it, try as he might.

And that was when Uncle Vernon walked in.

Things had gone downhill from there.

His aunt and uncle had erupted and Harry had been unable to do anything but stand there and pee while they yelled.

Dudley had thought it was hilarious.

Aunt Petunia had made him clean his own mess up and then Uncle Vernon had thrown him, pants still wet, back into his cupboard without breakfast.

Harry, wishing he could shower, had changed into dry clothes and sat on his bed, reflecting grimly that when he had woken up dry he had actually thought today might be a relatively decent day.

So far though it sucked.

He kicked his clothes over to a corner in the small space and wondered how long he would be stuck in here. The Dursleys were going out for the day and Harry doubted they had any intention of letting him have free reign of the house while they were gone.

He was right and before long he heard their car pulling away. He tested the cupboard door anyway just in case. Locked. As he had known it would be.

Sighing, he lay back on his bed and stared at the low ceiling.

Hours passed.

Harry didn't know exactly how many but after a while he realized he had to pee again.

He ignored it. There wasn't really anything else he could do but of course it got worse.

And worse. And still worse.

Eventually Harry ended up curled up on his bed, holding himself with both hands and bouncing his pelvis up and down as he tried not to wet himself. Again.

Tears leaked out of his eyes and into his pillow. It wasn't fair. This wasn't his fault but if he did wet himself he would be blamed for it.

And his nighttime nappies were kept in the bathroom; he wasn't even allowed to keep them in his cupboard. Harry wasn't an idiot; he knew it was because Dudley wet the bed too and they both used them.

Dudley, of course, didn't get blamed for his bedwetting.

Harry froze then on the bed, a light bulb going off in is head. His nighttime nappies. He wasn't allowed to keep them in his cupboard but he did still have the dry one from last night in here.

His heart pounding Harry started frantically looking around for it.

Once he had it in his hands though he hesitated. He hated wearing them. Even at night. Hated that he needed them. Was he really considering putting one on in the daytime and using it? Was he really that much of a baby? He didn't know when his relatives would be back, though or, for that matter, if they would even let him out right away when they did get back.

So maybe, just this once…

He spurted then and, feeling the small patch of wetness it caused, made up his mind and quickly moved to yank his pants and boxers off, knowing he didn't have much time.

He accidentally peed a little bit on the floor after he had gotten his pants and underwear off but he quickly pulled the nappy up and managed to stop himself from wetting anymore. Then, feeling strange in just his t-shirt and a nappy he put his pants back on and sat back on his bed, tensed and keeping his muscles clenched.

For some reason he didn't want to just let go even though he had protection on now. It felt like giving up and besides that he just really didn't want to wet himself again. Even if his pants wouldn't get wet this time.

He really had to go though, and lying back down he curled up into a ball once more and felt more tears escape into his pillow.

It was harder to hold himself now too. The padded thickness of the nappy made it difficult to get a decent hold on his crotch and to his shame it wasn't long before he was peeing.

He had never used a nappy while being awake before, at least not since he was a baby and didn't know any better, and it felt strange. He couldn't stop it from happening though and as his bladder emptied his whole crotch area started feeling very warm.

His pants stayed dry though and that was a small comfort.

After he finished he lay there exhausted and sniffling into his pillow, hating himself.

He was hungry too, he realized. It had to be at least early evening by now, the Dursleys still weren't back and he hadn't eaten all day.

And despite the fact that he hadn't done anything all day other than on two different occasions try not to wet himself and fail he felt very tired… as his eyes closed his mind flashed back to the wet nappy he still wore… he really should take it off…

It seemed like a lot of work all of a sudden though and, miserable and hungry, he fell asleep.

Harry slept through the rest of the day and the Dursleys didn't come back until around 11 PM, having decided to eat while they were out.

It was around 10 PM, however, 5 hours after he had put on the nappy and lost control, when Harry, unbeknownst to him as he was still fast asleep, started wetting himself for the third time that day. This time the nappy, already full, couldn't take it and, still sleeping, Harry peed completely through it, his pants and covers quickly becoming soaked.

Harry slept, not waking until another hour had passed and he heard the Dursleys' car pulling up in the driveway.

His eyes snapping open it didn't take him long to realize what had happened and the ten year old couldn't help himself and he started crying in earnest. It had been such a miserable day.

And when the Dursleys finally opened his cupboard door it was to find him sitting in a drenched bed, having obviously just woken up, and crying.

They had no sympathy.

Aunt Petunia made him strip his bed and carry all his wet things, including his clothes from that morning, to the wash room. Once he had gotten the load of laundry going she made him undress and add the soiled clothes that he was wearing to the wash as well.

"Can I take a shower now, Aunt Petunia?" Harry whispered, naked and shivering, trying his best to cover his privates as Dudley stood there and jeered at him.

Aunt Petunia pursed her lips. "You'll go take care of your bed. I'm certainly not going to do it. I've told you not to piss in it often enough, it's your own fault that you don't listen. And don't you dare put any clean clothes on your filthy body. I don't need even more laundry."

And so, completely naked, his face still streaked with tears, Harry struggled to put fresh sheets on his bed. At least his aunt and uncle let him keep a plastic protector on his mattress. Harry suspected it was more for convenience to them then to actually help him but he was grateful for it nonetheless. It meant his mattress, at least, had stayed dry.

Finally in the shower Harry closed his eyes and allowed the tears to come again. He hadn't had a day this horrible in a long time.

He just wanted to stay here, in the shower, and relax…

There was no way his relatives would let him do that though and reluctantly he made himself get out after only a few minutes. Just long enough to get himself clean.

It was almost midnight now and grimly he wondered if the he would be allowed to eat something before he was sent back to bed.

Despite the fact that he had technically slept through half of it, it had been a long and miserable day.

Somewhat to his surprise his aunt gave him a banana and a piece of bread before telling him to go back to his cupboard.

Thankfully she didn't lock the door after him.

After she went up the stairs Harry lay in his bed, afraid to sleep. He didn't want to wet again and now that his cupboard door was unlocked he wanted to be awake to get to the bathroom if he had to go again.

Eventually he fell asleep despite his best efforts and so the long, horrible day finally came to an end.


End file.
